


May The Best Man Win

by EmpressInferno



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Injury, Bottom Thomas, Depression, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Gay Bashing, Gay Sex, Guilt, Hate Speech, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Jealousy, Justice, Love Confessions, M/M, Murder, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Past Child Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Period-Typical Homophobia, Poor Thomas, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape Recovery, Shameless Smut, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2020-06-03 11:14:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 22,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19462822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmpressInferno/pseuds/EmpressInferno
Summary: Thomas Barrow had only wanted to get over his foolish crush on the insufferable Jimmy Kent, but somehow found himself in a brutal battle of courtship with FIVE men in an era where being...his sort was illegal at best. While trying to make sense of this dramatic turning point of his life, Thomas struggles with the darkness of his past. His position in the house as under butler is shaky at best, but there is an opportunity on the horizon, one that might be too good for Thomas to pass up.Jimmy, Andy, Edward, and Philip have no idea who the fifth man is, but it comes as a surprise to the world when Thomas Barrow's dark knight finally reveals himself. Who is it? Who will Thomas Choose?(Sybil is alive in this because I said so.)





	1. Stating Intentions

“I’ve come to a conclusion, Mr. Barrow,” Jimmy said one particularly hot afternoon. Sweat beaded on the brow of the golden-haired boy as he looked over at Thomas. Tendrils of smoke curled out of a smirking mouth as a perfectly arched brow quirked in a silent inquiry. Thomas waited patiently for Jimmy to continue, feeling his patience waning when the young man continued to fidget like a poorly trained puppy. “Out with it!” Thomas demanded as he pulled the fag from between his lush, pink lips. Lips that Jimmy always secretly had trouble looking away from, especially when they were huddled into a corner much like they were now.

If he were to be completely honest with himself, Thomas Barrow was a fit man. In fact, Jimmy had trouble remembering anyone he had felt such a magnetic pull toward in all his life. Since the first time he laid eyes on Thomas –that day when he had been indecent and Thomas was lurking in the doorway- he’d known right then, with the way Thomas’s eyes raked appreciatively over his sculpted chest, that there was something explosive between them. Or at least…there was the potential for it.

At first, Jimmy thought his own general lack of interest in women was due to the lack of options, but that couldn’t be true everywhere. Could it? He’d been a footman in great houses since he started working, so why did they never seem good enough? Just the other day he was admiring the pale skin and dark hair of Lady Mary over supper, but something had been missing then too. It was that moment that he realized that he only admired the features that reminded him of Thomas. Ah, yes. _His Thomas_. Thomas with his snarky disposition and tormented heart. Thomas with his unfathomable love for Jimmy even when he had been a right foul wanker to the under butler. Thomas with his intense, eerie gaze and porcelain complexion, mocking grin, infectiously dry humor, and curves….could a man have _curves_? Not in the way women did, anyway, but they were there nonetheless. 

Jimmy had admired Thomas’s wide shoulders and the bow of his muscled chest on more than one occasion. But what Jimmy liked the most was the tapered waist with the slight layer of softness around the middle, the arch of Thomas’s lower back that was more pronounced than other blokes’, and that damn swatch of inky-black hair that fell over his brow whenever he was tired or worked up over something. 

“Jimmy…” Thomas said gently, frown evident on his face as much as it was in his voice. Jimmy snapped back to the present. Why was he so nervous? This was bloody Thomas! His best mate and darkest fantasy come to life, what could be more perfect? But Jimmy knew what could make their connection…their so-called “friendship” –which frankly was just a method of self-torture for the both of them…even more perfect.

“I thought I lost ya’ there.”

Jimmy even liked the way Thomas voice was. It was deep, but always somewhat laced with sarcasm even when he was being sincere. But it was the way Thomas said his name, when he let the accent slip sometimes, that really caused Jimmy to take notice. It sounded more like “Jim-eh” or “Jim-uh” whenever he didn’t put on airs. “Mr. Barr –Thomas,” he corrected boldly, clasping his hands behind his back. “I just thought you should know that I have every bloody intention to start courtin’ you.”

Thomas choked on his next inhale of smoke, but Jimmy didn’t take pity or let the gorgeous man recover before he leaned in close to his ear. “That means I’m gonna woo you, Thomas Barrow,” he whispered. “And there ain’t nothin’ you can do ‘bout it. We’ll keep things quiet in the beginnin’, slow even, but we ain’t runnin’ no more.”

When Thomas finally got his wits about him, he shoved Jimmy back and stepped away. Jimmy watched the sway of Thomas’s hips, but looked up when Thomas peered over his shoulder. “It might come as a surprise ta’ hear it, Jimmy, but I’m already seein’ somebody. He’s very protective of me-”

Though a pang of irrational jealousy and possessiveness stole through Jimmy’s entire body, he kept his cocky grin firmly in place. “If a lady can have more than one suitor, then why can’t a bloke of…your sort? May the best man win and all that.”

“Gay, Jimmy,” Thomas responded. “If can’t even say it, then whateva’ ya’ tryin’ ta’ prove isn’t gonna mean nothing in the end. I’m not here ta’ be a toy that you can pick up and play with before setting it down and gettin’ bored.”

“What’s his name?” Jimmy hissed. “My competition. What’s his name?”

He felt his stomach drop into the bottom of his shoes when that slow, cunning smile slid across Thomas’s handsome face. “Let’s just say that no matter where he goes, he turns heads. In fact, he was once a suitor for one of his lordship's daughters, but few people ever really talk about it. He had a change of heart…a rather earth-shattering release of tension, really, and came to terms with the source of his bitterness.” Thomas Barrow’s voice had been laced with all sorts of suggestive notes that made Jimmy clench his hands into tight fists by his sides. "Sexuality is a delicate thing, Mr. Kent."

“One of their former suitors? There’s so bloody many of them, who can keep track?” he hissed. “And when did this _earth-shattering release of tension_ happen exactly?”

“You don’t know all of my secrets, dear boy. It’s time to face the fact, Jimmy Kent, that you and I really are nothin' but _friends_. At least until you prove otherwise…And besides, as you say, why can't a bloke of _my sort_ have more than one suitor? In fact, now that you mention it, you don't just have one competitor...you have four.”


	2. It's Complicated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW chapter. A heated moment in the pantry proves that Andy is much more...possessive than Thomas expected.

If anyone were to ask why Thomas Barrow was hiding in the kitchen pantry while the last of the downstairs staff shuffled off to bed, he would say, "Inventory." Which was his exact excuse when Andy, the footman, came barreling in to hide away as well. Though it had not been their intentions to end up in a dark corner of the abbey, it was a happy accident. Andy's long form leaned up against the shelves, chest heaving with a large hand coming up to swipe through his dark hair. Thomas watched his actions closely, for the footman was quite unpredictable. While he was often kind, generous, and a bit naive, Andy truly didn't know how often his moods toward Thomas would change in an instant.

"Evening, Mr. Barrow," the young man huffed.

"What are you doing in here, Andy? You know as well as I what would happen if they caught ya' in here with me."

"I've broken a vase and Mr. Carson heard the crash, but I ran before he could see me. There's gonna be a mystery over breakfast most likely to see who's done it." Andy lowered his head shamefully, a pretty pink tinging his cheeks. "What about you, Mr. Barrow? Why the hiding?"

"I-I'm not hidin' really."

"You've barely spoken a word to me over supper. Did I do something wrong? Was it the kiss?"

Memories flashed in Thomas's mind before he could stop them...

_The presumably straight, Andy shoved his back against the wall in the upstairs gallery. They were hidden in a shadowed cavity where the dancing lights from the chandeliers that flickered down upon the great hall of Downton Abbey did not penetrate. Thomas's hands scrambled for purchase. At first he thought he had been attacked, but then a warm, inexperienced mouth slid over his own and he bit back a whimper. Once the initial shock had worn off, Thomas recognized the dopey ears and wide shoulders of the youngest footman. Andy's hands had gripped his waist in a punishing possession that made the under butler's eyes roll into the back of his head._

_Thomas slid his hands up Andy's large chest and wrapped his arms around his neck to pull him closer. Andy bent down further to accommodate their slight height difference, but crowded Thomas right up to the wall by pressing that hulking body flush against him. Andy gasped when he felt the prod of Thomas's erection and the older man did not hesitate to slide his tongue into that beckoning mouth. Heat flashed in Andy's eyes as he hoisted the under butler off of his feet by a handful of his arse to grind their bodies together...._

_"Thomas," the footman moaned quietly. "You've been...teasing me. Making me angry and then smiling like that."_

_"I don't know what you mean, Andy. I've only ever tried ta' be ya' friend." Thomas's face had been flushed with embarrassment and arousal, but his words were true. "What happened, Andy? I thought you liked Daisy."_

_"I do...I do, but I can't stop thinking about it -you and I together, I mean...even just for tonight, Mr. Barrow."_

_"What are you saying?"_

_"Now that I know what you taste like, how am I supposed to concentrate on my work? No girl has ever tasted so sweet." Andy continued to rock against Thomas, grinding his bulge into the crook of the under butler's thigh. It took every ounce of self-control for Thomas not to tell the young man to bend him over and fuck him until a permanent outline of his body was imprinted into the wall. They kissed again, but it was something deeper and more carnal as Thomas teased Andy's mouth with his tongue and Andy bit his lip in a silent demand for more. His scarred hand trailed down the length of Andy's body to cup the hard cock that pressed against the fabric of his trousers...._

If it hadn't been for Lord Grantham hurrying off to answer the phone, Thomas suspected Andy would have taken things much further. But here they were, once again alone in an unsuspecting place in the abbey. "No, you did nothin' wrong. It wasn't the kiss," Thomas hedged. "Jimmy came to see me today. He's been workin' as a bartender down at the Grantham Arms for a while and he says he's interested in courtin' me. I told him there were other people in my life that I've become involved in, but I didn't mention your name....there's still time to back outta this if ya' want to. I would never force you to do somethin' you didn't want to."

"Don't do that."

"Do what?" Thomas asked unsure.

"Don't act like you aren't desirable or that you have to protect yourself from me," Andy replied. "If anything happens between us and neither of us are happy, we can go back to being friends. We still are friends, so that won't change no matter what. I just...when others are around..."

"We can't be friends."

"I'm really sorry about it, Mr. Barrow, but you know how Mr. Carson is about you," Andy said apologetically. He moved closer to Thomas then, slotting his body between the slight opening of Thomas's legs where he too leaned against the shelves. They heard the last of the doors close and then Andy's tongue brushed against the curve of his bottom lip. "God...I need..."

"What do you need, Andy?" Thomas asked even though his fingers were already working open the front of Andy's trousers. He stroked the cotton-clad erection beneath his hand. "Tell me...I can't read your mind-"

"Your mouth, Thomas. I need your mouth."

The breathy request was tinged with desperation and the sound of Thomas's name caused him to growl into the kiss. Andy clutched the under butler's shoulders when Thomas dropped to his knees to mouth at the curve of the younger man's cock. "You're a big boy, aren't ya'?" he chuckled playfully and then looked up into those big eyes as his pick tongue flashed out to lick the length of his bulge. Andy's knees trembled at the sight of it and he was force to grab ahold of the shelf in front of him. "Mmmm...p-please."

"You're gonna have ta' be quiet, Andy," Thomas breathed against that growing mass. Then his long, elegant fingers curled around the waistband of Andy's underwear and tugged, freeing the massive member for his eyes to feast on. And what a feast it was. Thomas's mouth watered at the sight of the weighty beast. It was long and heavy, hooded, and slightly curved to the left. Thomas grasped the base and pulled down until the weeping tip was exposed to the teasing flicker of his tongue. He moaned into silence of the room when he was rewarded with a splash of pre-cum that made his tastebuds sing. 

Andy hissed through tightly clenched teeth from above and fisted his hand in Thomas's hair, who took it as a sign to continue. He dipped his head and sucked the throbbing crown of Andy's cock between his lips, swirling his tongue along the underside of the bulbous tip. Thomas bobbed his head, wrapping his other hand around to grip the back of Andy's thighs, wordlessly begging for his mouth to be defiled. To his luck, the younger man seemed to know what he wanted and began to rock his hips. Thomas swallowed down more and more of the hardened flesh that was like steel wrapped in heated velvet sliding against his tongue until it hit the back of his throat. He moaned gratefully, happy to be blessed enough to taste a man like this again, to have him fuck into his drooling mouth while he struggled to breath through his nose.

"Ugh....Thomas...fuck your mouth is like heaven," the footman moaned. "So hot...so wet. I'm gonna....oh god."

Thomas removed his hand from the base of Andy's cock and turned them around so that Andy's back was to the shelves. He gripped Andy's arse and pushed forward, swallowing down the enormous member, lips stretched wide as his gag reflex was challenged to take it all. The panting man was reduced to pathetic whimpers and breathless sighs. Thomas swallowed around the large cock, gagging slightly. Andy's hand pulled his hair harder, but shoved Thomas down upon his length even more as his cum bathed the back of the under butler's throat.

He tasted salt, a bit of sweetness from Daisy's fruit pies, and a flavor that was always unique to each man he had tasted. Thomas continued to suck and slurp until the footman was trembling and babbling incoherently. He then pulled back and licked his fingers clean, loving the taste of cock. Andy watched him with heavy-lidded eyes. "Do you...need me to...ugh?"

"No," Thomas said. He stood up and pressed Andy's hand, the one that had been clutching the back of his head a second ago, right onto the crotch of his pants. The young man's eyes widened even further when he felt the telltale remnants of a man who had creamed his trousers. "Next time you want to fuck my mouth, just ask. No more excuses about breaking vases."

"Alright. But you said Jimmy Kent was back. Does this mean you and he are together?"

"Does that anger you?" Thomas teased.

"A bit, yeah."

"I'm not with anybody, Andy. But there are people interested. I'm just waiting to see which of you is the right one." Thomas turned to leave the pantry, but those strong, possessive hands wrapped around his waist, tugging him back against a warm chest.

"I could be the right one, Thomas. If you'd let me."

He unwrapped Andy from around him and tossed only a few more words out upon his retreat. "Let me know when you're tired of closets." Thomas then went to his sleeping quarters to collapse upon the floor and weep. He hated himself for letting silly boys back into his heart. Why couldn't his bloody desires just sod off already? Life would be so much better if he were normal. Thomas was tired, tired of putting up walls around himself so that others couldn't see his vulnerabilities. He didn't know why both Jimmy and Andy had sudden changes in their sexualities, but it wasn't fair. He was perfectly content with just being the young footman's friend and he had made a serious effort to get over his ridiculous crush on Jimmy. Then they had to ruin it....

 _No, I ruined it_ , Thomas thought. He had given Jimmy hope that day near the servant's entrance and then given into his baser needs with Andy in the pantry. Though he was not claimed by any one man, it was overwhelming to live beneath the attention of five of them. As if The Duke and Edward weren't enough, the two youngsters had to come and confuse Thomas. With The Duke he had history, painful, but it was still history. With Edward, he had a shy, hesitant courtship filled with so-far unrequited pining. And then there was...Him....The _HIM_ that made Thomas Barrow think positively of the future, a man who could never reveal his love for Thomas or else chaos would ensue. But Thomas knew it was worth the wait. In the end, he would have to choose one....


	3. Only For You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rest of the day was tormentingly slow for him. His work had become more muscle memory than actual effort these days. Thomas wouldn't say he was bored, but he wasn't entertained, either. Not even gossip and scheming had the appeal it once did. After supper was done and everyone shuffled off to bed, Thomas shook his head at Andy and the poor sod trotted off to his own room for the night. He liked Andy, he really did, but his mind was consumed with other matters. And "other matters" knocked on the service entrance door. Thomas peeked through a slight crack. A new smile erupted on his face and he jumped into the arms of Edward Courtenay.

Thomas was lost in the pages of his book when the letters were passed around. He couldn't look up, for he feared meeting the puppy-dog eyes of Andy. Even now, hidden behind his stories, Thomas Barrow blushed like a schoolmarm with a bloody crush. He crossed his legs and readjusted his features before taking a drag on his cigarette. Anna brushed a hand against his arm gently and he looked up to see what the annoyingly polite maid wanted. "Yes?" he asked.

"There's...a delivery here for you, Mr. Barrow."

Thomas scowled as Mrs. Hughes brought in a bouquet of flowers...of Thomas's favorite flowers. Flowers that he had once used as playful nicknames for his blind beau, Lieutenant Edward Courtenay. The bouquet consisted of honeysuckles, buttercups, scarlet pimpernels, and a cheeky spattering of forget-me-nots. It was their secret code, one that was only mentioned as a passing joke in their letters. Edward would sign his letters with the names of flowers and so Thomas began to call him by those names whenever they met during his stay at the hospital. The forget-me-nots were meant to say exactly what their namesake implied. Lieutenant Pimpernel, Handsome Honeysuckle, and the Blind Buttercup were all the same man. A fact that never failed to tickle Thomas.

The stunning smile on Thomas Barrow's face caused everyone in the room to take notice. They looked up from their breakfast and watched him chuckle at the the lovely gift. "Who are they from?" Andy asked, breaking Thomas out of his dream-like daze. "You seem awfully happy, Mr. Barrow." The young footman struggled to keep the joy in his tone as he wrestled with his own bout of envy.

"They're from a friend I met in the war," Thomas answered, not revealing the gender of said friend. "They were blinded by mustard gas, but regained partial sight in one eye. Still can't see very well, but they try. We write from time to time, but the flowers are new of course." He plucked a small scrap of paper out of the bouquet and began to laugh hysterically. Thomas was relieved that Mrs. Hughes had enough decency not to read the note before he had a chance, for it was nothing more than a crude drawing of an erection. He tucked the paper into his book before anyone could look at it over his shoulder. The bulk of the room still stared at him expectantly. "What?"

"It's just...we've never seen ya' like that before," Daisy stammered as she poured the tea.

"Like what?" Thomas asked.

"Happy," Mr. Bates responded, looking sort of uneasy at the sight of Thomas's joy. The looks he was getting caused his smile to fade rather quickly. He couldn't even have a laugh without people being suspicious that there was some sort of treacherous intent behind it. Thomas stood up from the table and grabbed his things, moving quickly past Mr. Carson as he rushed to his room. He didn't even stop to hear the butler scold him for impropriety, but he had no intention of allowing anyone to steal his happiness. The flowers did wonders to bring character to his drab little room. Thomas sat them on the stand beside his bed and flopped on top of the mattress.

The rest of the day was tormentingly slow for him. His work had become more muscle memory than actual effort these days. Thomas wouldn't say he was bored, but he wasn't entertained, either. Not even gossip and scheming had the appeal it once did. After supper was done and everyone shuffled off to bed, Thomas shook his head at Andy and the poor sod trotted off to his own room for the night. He liked Andy, he really did, but his mind was consumed with other matters. And "other matters" knocked on the service entrance door. Thomas peeked through a slight crack. A new smile erupted on his face and he jumped into the arms of Edward Courtenay.

Their kiss was full of passion until Thomas pulled away to peer around the dark corridors of the servant's hall to make sure no one was around. He stepped outside and shut the door behind him, throwing himself at the lieutenant once again. Strong, capable hands raked through Thomas's hair, petting him just the way he liked. "I didn't expect to see you," he gasped when they put some distance between them. "You didn't say you were stoppin' in. Why didn't you write it in your letter, you daft git?"

"Happy to see me, Barrow?" There was an impish glint in Edward's sightless eye that made Thomas kiss him again. This time the kiss was short and sweet, brimming with affection. "I thought I would surprise you and maybe visit Sybil while I was here. Can I come up to yours?"

"Are you mad?!" Thomas exclaimed in a sort of whisper-shout that should have been impossible. "If someone were to catch you sneakin' out of my room, I'd be hanged."

"Gosh, you're pretty when you're flustered, Barrow," Edward was on him in an instant, pressing Thomas against the wall he usually leaned against to have a smoke. _Yes_ , Thomas thought. And then... _no, no, no!_ He pushed Edward a way and worried his bottom lip between his teeth, trying to banish the tingles that still lingered from the kiss.

"Go to the inn in the village and then ring Sybil in the morning," Thomas huffed. "If she agrees, the three of us can meet in a pub or something."

"Alright, but...one more kiss."

Thomas flushed ridiculously, but kissed Edward with everything he had. The slide of the lieutenants tongue against his own was debauch and delicious all at once. Thomas moaned just at the taste of the other man and had to force himself from grinding against him in a way that was needy and desperate. He broke the kiss and hurried into the abbey, but ran right into Andy. The footman crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at Thomas with a knowing glare. "I know we aren't exclusive, Mr. Barrow, but you could be a little more careful."

"I-I...wasn't expecting company."

"So besides James Kent and myself, who else has been wanting your attention?" Andy sneered, looking Thomas over in a way that was filled with lust and anguish. Thomas swallowed thickly past the lump in his throat, one that was still somewhat sore from the thorough fucking it had taken the night before. He winced at the memory of his carelessness, but they all knew the score. Until they bucked up and asked Thomas for a relationship...a REAL relationship, then he would carry on as he always had.

"Edward, Philip, and..." Thomas felt heat crawl up his neck and settle on his cheeks. "Actually, it's none of your business or anyone else's. Take what you can get and be happy with it or pull your head our of your arse and admit that you might be even a little bit _lavender_." The word made Andy scowl and stomp off to his room. Thomas returned to his room, but barely slept a wink. He came down to breakfast feeling energize despite the lack of sleep, however. Everyone went about their own business as if the flowers never happened. Andy apparently wasn't feeling well, so Mr. Carson allowed him to skip breakfast.

Mr. Mosley babbled on and on about the importance of education. Thomas agreed, but he didn't really care much for Mr. Mosley, so he ignored the whole thing. Mrs. Hughes handed Thomas four letters and the room once again looked at him with unspoken expectations. Golly they were a nosey lot. Thomas sighed heavily and opened the first one. The messy scrawling of Jimmy Kent made the corner of Thomas's mouth twitch.

_I blame you for my wicked dreams, you bloody cock-tease! Remember, I'll be courtin' you soon, Mr. Barrow. Curse you and your cherry red lips and amazing arse. Those other blokes can't have you!_

It was short and so ridiculously Jimmy that Thomas couldn't help but laugh. He imagined the younger man lying awake with frustration because he couldn't help dreaming about Thomas on his knees or -as Jimmy once expressed as a fantasy of his- Thomas riding him while Jimmy sat in Lord Grantham's favorite chair at the dining table. He snorted at the thought, even feeling a bit tight in the britches, and opened the next letter. He could feel eyes boring into the side of his head, but he tried his best to ignore them.

_My darling Barrow,_

_I think of you always. Not a second goes by that my thoughts are not consumed by you. I know we have had our troubles in the past -and you are more than entitled to your anger, but I still love you. I fear I always will. Do you remember the stolen moments around the abbey? Hiding away in your secret closets filled with clocks and old silver trays? I think of them often and sigh. You've made me weak, Thomas. You've made me one of those pining fools that can't get over the one who scorned them. It was a nasty thing, what happened between us, but I hope we can move past it and look forward to a better future. One that might include us as more than a tryst in a dark corner. I'm staying in London, working as an architect. Nearly all of my dreams have come true except one, for you are not by my side. I miss you Duchess._

_Forever Yours,_

_Philip_

It was soppy and laced with such longing that Thomas felt tears prickle behind his eyes. It was as close to an apology he would ever get from his Duke, but he was glad to know that they could move past what had happened that dreadful night. Both of them had made mistakes and responded badly to the situation. Thomas would have to write back and set a date for them to meet.

The next letter was from Edward, telling Thomas that Sybil invited him to dinner tomorrow night and even sent him a proper suit to wear so he didn't have to show up in his uniform. Thomas's belly was filled with nervous excitement as he shuffled to the last letter in the pile. He heard several comments along the lines of "Well, isn't Mr. Barrow popular lately" and "I wonder if he's got an admirer". The final letter was unmarked. It made Thomas's heart plummet to the bottom of his shoes before soaring through the sky. Thomas had to press a hand to his chest to make sure that it wasn't trying to beat straight through his ribcage.

His shaky fingers flipped open the letter and instantly he recognized the flowing script of his savior. He pushed aside the dark memories of that night and focused on the paper in his hands. It was an address, a time, and a date. Thomas was finally going to see the man who had saved his life again, the one that kept his face concealed and moved through the darkness like a phantom in the night. Thomas remembered how his battered and bloodied body had been swept up into the arms of a dark knight and carried through the streets of White Chapel as rain poured from an ebony sky. If he closed his eyes he could still feel the warmth of the man seeping into his bones and smell the aftershave on his skin. He remember the faint brush of lips upon his temple and then his savior had stolen away into the night, disappearing forever.

And then this letter came and Thomas....he just knew it was _him_.


	4. Dinner For Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW chapter. There is smut and romance, and pining, and....well, just give it a read.
> 
> "Such a good boy, Thomas. You make me feel so good. So loved."

Thomas felt a rattling in his chest as the taxi pulled up in front of the house. His Lordship and Her Ladyship stood side by side and greeted Lieutenant Edward Courtenay as if he were one of their usual guests. Sybil, bless her shining heart, pulled the man into her arms the moment he stood in front of her. They laughed like old friends -and he supposed they were- and dashed off to enjoy a drink before the family settled into the dining room for dinner. The Dowager and many others were expected to attend the partaking of the evening meal. Mr. Carson was pleased that the table would be full, but less than enthusiastic about the scarred, blinded soldier who would sit beside His Lordship as an honored guest.

"Jimmy's here to see you, Mr. Barrow," Mr. Mosley stuttered. "Said he'd talk to no one but you."

Thomas rolled his eyes and ignored the pointed glare he received from Andy. Though he must admit that the possessive streak in the other man was something that made shivers run down his spine, as did the heated glances whenever he thought no one was the wiser. Thomas stepped outside with every intention to have a smoke and greeted Jimmy with a nod. "Evenin', Mr. Kent."

"Oh, shove it, Thomas," Jimmy grumbled, looking down at his feet and kicking the gravel. "I know you got my message."

"Thought about it quite a lot, actually," said the smirking mouth of Thomas Barrow. Oh, how he loved the precious flush that graced Jimmy's cheeks whenever he spoke suggestively. "Cherry read lips and amazing arse, was it?"

Jimmy knew Thomas loved to tease him, but he wasn't here for that, Thomas suspected. The younger man handed something to Thomas under the guise of a polite handshake. "Don't read it now, read it later, you ninny."

"What is this Jimmy?"

"Never mind for now. He's here, isn't he? The lieutenant." The words were said with so much scorn that Thomas snorted a bit. These boys and their jealousy...it was quite glorious, actually. Thomas had spent so long feeling undesirable and put off by the thought of a relationship out of fear. It was refreshing to have so many suitors. He now understood why Lady Mary toyed with the hearts of young lords and gents alike. "Don't bother lyin', I know he is. He made the call to Lady Sybil from the Grantham Arms while I was tending the bar. He weren't too subtle, your lieutenant. He practically begged for a moment alone with you."

"I was the one who told him to call," Thomas admitted, hating the pained look on Jimmy's face. "He sent flowers and came by for a visit. I told him to call and set up coffee or tea with Sybil and I, but she invited him to dinner instead. My life is a little complicated at the moment."

"So I hear," Jimmy groused.

"What?"

"What what?"

"You've got that look about ya', Jimmy Kent, the one that says you're lookin' to do something foolish," Thomas snickered. "What is it?"

"Working at the pub is a nightmare, Thomas. I have to hear this Andy fellow talk about you with his mates like you're some bloody god or somethin', which don't get me wrong...I do it too, but all those mates of his are really startin' to bother me. They talk about you like you're a pastry they can't wait to take a bite out of. Punched one in the nose the other night and had to make excuse for it and everything."

Thomas bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. "I'll tell Andy to keep his admiration to himself. It's dangerous for him to go around talking like that. You too, Jimmy. No more fights either. What if someone at the house were to hear of all this nonsense and think I'm a molester? I'd lose my job or worse."

"Some days I wish you were a bloody molester, then I wouldn't have to practically beg you to let me court you," Jimmy grumbled. He came over and popped up on his tippy toes to kiss Thomas on his cheek in broad daylight. Thomas sputtered and nearly had a heart attack, but the smile on that mischievous face calmed him down some. "I'll be careful from now on, but that lieutenant can bugger off for treatin' you like a lady." Jimmy looked around and grabbed a handful of Thomas's pert rump and bit his lip. Thomas's legs buckled being so close to Jimmy...HIS JIMMY WAS TOUCHING HIM!! was all he could think.

"God, Thomas, you have no idea what you do to me," the blond whispered against Thomas's ear. Thomas had to push Jimmy away and straighten his suit, imagining dead kittens and festering boils to get his erection under control. "You gotta go, Jimmy." Which, much to Jimmy's delight, came out as "Jim-uh" as Thomas's facade faltered. "And he don't treat me like a _lady_. He treats me with kindness."

Jimmy kissed Thomas once more and then hurried off. Thomas leaned against the wall. He lit the end of his cigarette with his favorite lighter and let the bitter taste of tobacco soothe his nerves. With Jimmy he had a playful, almost juvenile courtship that felt like he was a naughty teenager again sneaking behind people's backs with his best mate. With Andy, it was a dark and almost brutal claiming that belied the footman's gentle disposition entirely. The Duke, his Philip, was the whirlwind romance that was filled with heartbreak and desperate longing. Edward, the blind beau, was wistful love, like a silly crush that kept Thomas awake at all hours just thinking of the touch of his hand. And then there was... _Him,_ Thomas's protector that was never too far from his thoughts, an obsessive infatuation that was dangerous for both sides.

Thomas felt nauseated with nerves thinking of meeting his dark knight in two days. He had a half day and intended to use ever spare second of his time off with his mysterious suitor. Thomas finished his cigarette and helped Mr. Carson oversee preparations for the dining room and pour drinks for the lords and ladies gossiping in the sitting room. He overheard Sybil and Edward talking about him and struggled to hide his blushing cheeks from Mr. Carson, who no doubt heard it as well.

"Honestly, I don't know what I would do without Thomas," Edward said. "He's helped me so much after my recovery -you both have."

Sybil placed her hand on Edward's arm comfortingly and smiled. "He's great, isn't he? Without him, I wouldn't have had the courage to marry Tom or try to find happiness. The best day of my life was when I was no longer Lady Sybil to Thomas, but his friend Sybil. Nothing has been the same since. Propriety and decorum be damned."

They chuckled and continued to shower him with words of admiration and friendship. Thomas blinked away the tears in his eyes and looked at Sybil for the first time since entering the room. Aside from Mrs. Hughes and Miss Baxter -Sybil, Tom, and Sybbie were the closest thing to family that Thomas had. Everyone else regarded him with something akin to tolerance, if that. Dinner went by without a hitch, aside from Edward sliding Thomas knowing glances. After dinner, Sybil made a fuss about Edward's eyes giving him headaches.

"I don't think it would be best if you returned to your room at the inn tonight," she said looking rather flustered. Sybil was a better actress than Thomas had given her credit. "Thomas is familiar with your medical history. He can tend to you for the rest of the evening. Then you can return to your room at the inn if you so wish in the morning. Right, Papa?" Those big doe eyes never failed to make his lordship turn to putty in her hands. Thomas would have been impressed if he wasn't so damn amused.

He helped Edward to his room, one that Sybil had situated far from the others staying in the bachelor wing, and closed the door. For a moment he wondered if the lieutenant was truly have trouble with his vision until his back was forced against the door. Thomas released a pitiful moan and felt his body convulse when skilled fingers brushed down the seam at the back of his trousers. Edward's lips were mouthing at his neck and he rocked his hips. Thomas groaned when the beautiful weight pressing him to the door was removed. He scrambled in the dark to find Edward and heard the man chuckle. He was suddenly maneuvered and then deposited onto the mattress.

The softness of it was a stark contrast to the hard male grinding on top of him. Thomas was relieved of his livery faster than he could comprehend what was happening. Hands roamed his body as if Edward was mapping out each of his features. "You're beautiful," the sightless man breathed onto Thomas's abdomen, which clenched and shivered at the warm sensation of air cascading over his skin. Teeth nipped at his hipbones as fingers toyed with his nipples. Thomas thrust his hips and gripped the covers tightly, trying to remain in control of his body even as his lover played him like a fiddle.

"Turn over," demanded that soft, sweet voice and Thomas obeyed. His hips were propped up by a pillow that was shoved beneath his hips. A hand wrapped around his erection and Thomas spread his legs with shameless abandon. The muscles in his thighs flexed as kisses peppered the base of his spine. The room was pitch dark. The only light that reflected in the small space came from the moonlight. Slivers of silver spilled from a slight opening in the thick curtains and cut through the shadows. Two sweat-dampened silhouettes were barely visible. Thomas pressed his face into the pillow as a hot, wet tongue slid up the crack of his arse. He screamed into fabric beneath his face when Edward sucked his cock from behind before releasing it with a pop and then tickled the puckered entrance of his anus with the tip of his tongue.

"Oh...sssshhh...ngh," Thomas couldn't stop the noises that fell from his lips. Edward teased the muscled rim. He slurped and nipped and licked until the flesh turned scarlet with wanting beneath his manipulations. Thomas felt as though his body was vibrating with the need for release. Edward tasted him with the hunger of a starving man and then caressed him with his fingers and kissed up Thomas's spine. He licked the beautiful under butler's neck and moved to whisper into his ear. For some reason, the lack of light made the entire affair more intimate...more dangerous and erotic.

"I can't wait to be inside you," Edward whispered. "I can feel you clenching on my finger as if you missed me _here_...where you burn and ache for my cock. Did you miss me inside you, Flower? My tongue, my fingers, my cock...pushing you toward your pleasure? You're such a good boy for me, Thomas. So sweet and giving. I'd never looked twice at another man until you, darling."

Thomas's legs shook as a second finger joined the first, stretching him in the way that he loved. Edward curled his fingers downward and slightly to the left, honing in on Thomas's prostate with practiced ease. The under butler shifted and closed his legs, trapping his erection between his thighs. "My god, Thomas...it's like your body is trying to suck me inside of all this heat...so good, my love." A third finger stretched and prodded torturously until he couldn't take it anymore.

"Fuck me," Thomas begged. "Fuck me...please...I need you."

A kiss brushed his shoulder and then Thomas felt the tip of Edward's cock against his gaping hole. Spit leaked out as Thomas's ass kiss that plush head. Fingers rubbed the ring of his anus as it stretched to accommodate his body's intrusion. Pre-cum mingled with spit and sweat as Edward sank into the depths of the writhing body beneath him. Thomas released a sound that was barely human and forced his ass into the lieutenants lap."Please. Please. Please....hard..I need it hard."

He felt his lover pull out slightly, reveling in the dragging friction against the rippling channel of his arse. Edward's hips snapped forward and pain blurred with pleasure. They rutted against one another. Thomas fucked himself carelessly on Edward's cock until the tip of his throbbing masculinity caught on the pillow beneath him. Edward's hand covered Thomas Barrow's moaning mouth and allowed the spasming internal muscles of that gorgeous body to milk his own orgasm to completion. "Such a good boy, Thomas. You make me feel so good. So loved."

Thomas was kissed and cuddled until Edward fell asleep. He knew better than to allow himself to drift off. No -Thomas Barrow was cunning, not stupid. He washed himself up, changed, and then hurried off to his room before the other servants could catch on that he had been up to something naughty. He smiled to himself when the door to his room closed. A few minutes later came a knock. "Morning, Mr. Barrow, time to get up," called a hall boy. Thomas knew Edward would just be awakening to find his bed cold and empty. An unwelcome surge of guilt made Thomas reluctant to bid the guests farewell.

He was proud of himself, however, for not throwing Edward to the ground and riding him into oblivion before he left in the taxi. On his way into the house, he felt the small package Jimmy had slipped him during his visit. A smile tugged on the corners of Thomas Barrow's handsome face.There was something absurd about it all. Thomas half expected to awaken from a dream. Since when did he, of all people, have five gorgeous blokes vying for his attention?


	5. The Great Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a brief flashback chapter to introduce Thomas's mysterious dark knight.

_Three months ago...._

Thomas Barrow's shoes clicked against the rain-slicked cobblestone alleyways of Liverpool. Dressed in only the highest of fashions for the decade, he was on the prowl. A particularly nasty argument with Mr. Carson and Bates had Thomas feeling desperate and reckless. Anna had attempted to stand up for him, but he was bloody sick of defending himself. Whether he found a fight or a good fuck, he didn't care as long as the numbness in his chest went away. The tangerine glow from the end of his cigarette illuminated his grim, handsome features with each pull of smoke into his lungs. Three legless blokes barked at him like dogs as he walked by. He knew wearing his most expensive clothes in this part of the city would have been a mistake any other night, but Thomas was looking for trouble.

He was tired of slitting his wrists and being saved by Baxter, of reliving the horrors of war and the abuse he had sustained all his life all because she had a notion that he was a good person. Thomas Barrow was simply tired. He tossed a rude gesture over his shoulder thinking, _I wonder if they'll stab me for it. But then again, when have I ever had any good luck?_ His thoughts were pitiful, really. How self-centered could he be that all he thought about recently was the sight of his own beautiful face obscured by a mucky puddle as he lay dead on the ground? People could say whatever they liked about him then. They could slander his name all they wanted and none of it would matter.

"Oi! Let's teach this cheeky bastard a lesson in manners!" light footfalls began to trail behind him and Thomas smiled to himself. Men were predictable so long as they weren't the men he was in love with. Love was a complicated subject for Thomas. But the men behind him, the ones that were more beast than human, could be relied upon to act with their fists and their cocks instead of thinking with their brains. They were perfect for what he had in mind. He tossed the gesture over his shoulder once more and then the footsteps became an angry stampede of thundering boots. Thomas dashed further down the alley, feeling alive with the chase. _This was it_ , he thought. _This is the night I die._

Very few people would mourn him, so he wasn't worried about writing letters or leaving some profound mark on the world. Then Thomas thought of Sybil and little Sybbie. Then he thought of Tom and Mrs. Hughes. THEY would mourn him. Baxter would pity him and the others would soon enough forget that he even existed. "He always tempted fate," the others would say. "It served him right" or "The world has a way of teaching us valuable lessons" would come from Bates or Mr. Carson. Honestly, Thomas knew he was tolerated...if that. A fist connected with the back of his head and sent him tumbling to the ground.

Thomas rolled onto his back and scrambled on his elbows as punches rained down upon him. He felt his jaw click and his ears began to ring so loud that he could no longer hear the drunken slurs and insults from the men standing over him. A flash of light bounced off of a wickedly curved blade. Thomas pushed the men away and ran as fast as his broken body would allow, leading the men right to a dead end. This was where he wanted to die. He deserved no better than to rot for days until someone happened upon his corpse. "W-what are you waiting for?" he taunted. Thomas spat blood onto the ground and pressed a hand to his shattered ribs. "Don't all queers deserve to die?"

He saw the hatred dance in their eyes and it almost made him sing out loud with happiness. They came at him all at once. The blade slashed through the air and Thomas leaned his head back against the brick wall and closed his eyes. Trickles of water fell from the sky and dampened his hair. There were no final words, no meaningful moment to mark his death, just a quick...

Sounds blurred with the onslaught of rain as a ravenous storm approached. A man's hat fell to the ground in front of him and it was much more expensive than anything else in that neighborhood, even more than Thomas's clothes. The wet thwack of a fist connecting with flesh reverberated off the walls along with screams of terror. Blood mingled with the water that sloshed on the ground and Thomas began to tremble. Whatever was out there...whatever fought in the shadows as if it were part of the darkness itself...it was killing those men. The men that Thomas had lured into the alley. He meant for them to kill him! Not for them to be killed!

 _Pathetic, Thomas. Couldn't even get your own murder right._ For some reason, the voice in his head sounded suspiciously like O'Brian.

When the fighting stopped and lumps of dark, water-logged fabric was scattered through the alley, Thomas looked around for his...savior? Had their intentions been to save him? Or was the individual out for a fresh kill all along and Thomas had been an unknowing accomplice? Stranger things had happened to him in the past. A stone ricocheted off of the walls and too out the only light shining in the narrow passageway. Thomas felt warm breath against his cheek, flavored with mint and bourbon. A gentleman? What lord or man of the gentry was capable of such things? An uncalloused palm brushed a swatch of inky hair from Thomas's brow. "Are you hurt badly?" a deep voice rumbled.

Thomas's body chose that moment to collapse down the wall, but before he could hit the sodden ground, he was swept up into the man's arms like a bride on her wedding night. Shadows danced in his vision until there was nothing but the rhythmic beating of his savior's heart beneath his palm as his hand rested on a broad chest. Thomas awakened some time later in a very grand hotel room. How had he been carried here by a man without causing any trouble? Was his savior powerful enough to discourage scandal?

"I took the liberty of tending to your wounds while you were unconscious," that voice from before said. Thomas sat up gingerly, but his eyes could not find the man responsible for his survival. There. Only a silhouette was visible at the far side of the room, but it was a lovely silhouette. Broad shoulders and a muscled chest was swathed in disheveled clothing. A rosy tinge of pink dusted Thomas's cheeks when he looked down and saw that he had been stripped bare beneath the covers.

"You didn't have to do that," he said sheepishly. "I was a medic in the war, so I could've seen to it myself. But thank you."

"I didn't trust you to look after yourself," the mysterious gentleman replied. "Not after I saw your expression as you closed your eyes and accepted death the moment you saw the knife in the other man's hand. What? Too much of a coward to put a gun in your mouth?"

How dare he? The man didn't know Thomas and yet he assumed so much. "Actually, I've come close to killing myself several times, but someone is always there to ruin it for me. Much like what you did tonight. I figured my odds were better at being murdered, but I was wrong again. The bloody universe just won't let me die."

"Why are you keen on ending your life?"

"It's none of your business," Thomas snapped.

"I think it is. I saved your life, after all."

"We've established that that wasn't what I wanted. Why and how I want to die is none of your concern!"

"Is it because you're attracted to men?" the stranger asked. Thomas felt years of panic bubble up in his gut and tasted bile at the back of his tongue. He rushed to the bathroom on unstable legs, feeling pain rush through his body, but he made it to the pot in time to be sick. All of the lights went out in the hotel room as if the storm was working with the stranger to keep his identity secret. The shadowy figure knelt beside Thomas and dabbed his forehead with a damp rag. The gentleness was something he hadn't expected. Many people were violent towards him once they knew his...preferences.

"Fear not, little raven," the stranger whispered. "No one will ever hurt you again. I promise."

"But I want to hurt...because at least I can feel something."

Once Thomas brushed his teeth and drank some water, he was hoisted up into strong arms once again. He could tell the man was a few inches taller than him and covered in rippling muscle beneath the fine cloth. The man wasn't burly like Tom, but he wasn't slender either. Thomas was gently laid on the bed. His eyes closed the second his head hit the pillow, but he did not sleep. He allowed his body to settle into the featherdown mattress with a satisfied groan. The other side of the bed dipped and suddenly he was surrounded by warm, naked male flesh. There was nothing sexual about the embrace, which was worse in Thomas's mind. He didn't deserved to be...held. Not by a man of worth.

"Hush," the stranger breathed against his neck before pressing a kiss underneath his ear. "Let the night cradle us both until the morning comes. I will protect you, sweet creature. Nothing will ever harm you again. Not the world nor yourself, for I will always be there."


	6. It Can't Be

Many people had never had the privilege of seeing Thomas Barrow excited. He jumped out of bed and began strapping himself into his livery as Jimmy Kent lifted a bed-rustled head from his pillow. "It ain't even dawn yet, Thomas. Why the bloody hell are you out of bed?" rasped the sleepy blond. He had climbed through the window last night and ravished Thomas so thoroughly that he was surprised to be standing at all. There was a slight ache in his backside that brought a fond smile to his face at the memory of his night with Jimmy. He leaned down and kissed his lover long and hard.

"I'm meeting him tonight," Thomas answered excitedly.

"Meeting who?"

"Your other competitor, that's who."

"He's my competitor and you ain't even met him yet?" Jimmy asked skeptically.

"Well, not officially. I don't know his name or...what he looks like exactly, but he's saved my life several times and has taken very good care of me. And before you ask -no, we have not been intimate with one another besides sleeping in the same bed." Thomas pulled on the next layer of his uniform as Jimmy watched him with hungry eyes that were brimming with annoyance and desire. The shorter man stood up and wrapped his arms around Thomas's waist.

"I know I might not be as experienced as some of the others, but I'm tryin'," Jimmy whispered. "I thought you enjoyed yourself last night. You know you can tell me if I'm doin' something wrong, right?"

Thomas turned around in Jimmy's arms and tasted him. Jimmy moaned and tried to reach into Thomas's pants, but pale fingers wrapped around tan wrists to stop his movements. "You're a wonderful lover, James Kent. I did enjoy myself. But I'm not ready to choose just yet. You're my best friend and I love you...but I love the others as well. You are all different in my heart, which is what makes these thing so difficult."

"Is it because I'm not as _lavender_ as the others?" Jimmy huffed.

"Don't use that word."

"Why? What if it's my favorite flower? I thought you liked flowers, Thomas. Your lieutenant seems to think so."

"Is that what this is about?" Thomas chuckled. "Your jealousy is adorable." He kissed the end of Jimmy's nose and swatted his bottom. "Now, back out the window you go or else Carson will eat you for breakfast."

And though his cheeks were colored with crimson, Jimmy Kent pressed up against Thomas Barrow and whispered, "I'd rather you eat me for breakfast." It was vulgar and devastatingly sexy to hear such words on the inexperienced lips of his lover. Thomas devoured Jimmy with a heated kiss and shoved him toward the window. Jimmy barely had his trousers buckled as he climbed onto the roof and shimmied down the side of the abbey. Thomas couldn't wipe the ridiculous smile off of his face as he stepped into the hallway.

Leaning against the opposite wall was Andy. A sour expression darkened the other man's features. "Jimmy Kent strikes again," he grumbled. Thomas had the nerve to blush, but he bit his lip to keep from squeaking when Andy's hand curled around his throat and forced him back into his bedchamber. "What does he have that I don't?" Andy didn't wait for an answer. He pushed Thomas until he was bent over the writing desk in the corner of his room and yanked down his trousers. A beautiful weight pressed him into the wood and Thomas moaned like a tavern wench and spread his legs. Thomas Barrow had many private fantasies and even more weaknesses -and hate fucking was one of them.

Fingers prodded his opening and, though he was still a bit sore from Jimmy's claiming, Thomas pushed his arse back in search of the sweet friction those thick fingers provided. "Fuck me," he breathed. "If you're a real man...make me forget him..." Andy sank his teeth into Thomas's shoulder and fumbled with his sleep pants. It was risky with the door being unlocked, but Andy stuffed Thomas's whimpering mouth with Jimmy's discarded boxer shorts.

"Get a good taste, Thomas. If I have my way, it'll be the last time you ever taste James Kent." Andy pushed his girthy prick into the well-stretched arse that wiggled beneath him. Thomas's cock leaked all over the desk as he was pounded into relentlessly. It was a good pain, one that made his bones quake with each thrust. "You've disappointed me. Perhaps I'll just use you for my own pleasure and not let you cum? You deserve to be punished, Thomas. Owned."

 _Yes! Own me. Own me. Punish me. Use me._ The words repeated in his mind until he was maddened by them. Filthy words were hissed into his ear, driving him closer to the edge, but Andy wouldn't let him go over. A rough hand grabbed his hair and forced him to his knees. He watched the young footman jerk his twitching cock until his hips jerked and jets of white bathed Thomas's face. He spit out the under shorts and stuck his tongue out at the last minute to catch a few drops on his tongue that made his own aching member jump with excitement. "Please...please...c-can I cum?"

Andy knelt in front of Thomas and pulled him into his lap. Those teasing fingers filled the emptiness in his body and Thomas rode Andy's hand. "Cum for me, Mr. Barrow. Cum on my fingers." His erection brushed against sculpted abs until he painted them with his semen. He had to bite down on his fist to keep from screaming. Footsteps came from down the hall and the two men scurried to the washbasin to clean the cum from their bodies and right their clothes. It was especially awkward over breakfast, so Thomas chose to busy himself with the morning paper.

Mr. Carson stood up to address the room and announce the responsibilities for the day. Thomas blanked most of it out, but the end of the instructions caught his attention. "Mr. Barrow, you will be tending to the Duke of Crowborough this weekend. He requested you specifically, as we are short on valets and His Lordship has many guests."

"But, Mr. Carson, today is my half day."

"Then you can take it tomorrow. But we need you tonight, Mr. Barrow."

"But, Mr. Carson, I had plans for this evening-"

"Do I have to remind you that, if you would like to keep your position in this house as under butler, you will have to earn your way back into His Lordship's good graces?" Mr. Carson asked with a belittling arch of his thick brow. Thomas said nothing, but he folded his newspaper and kept his eyes to the floor. He hated when others talked down to him as if he were a child. There was no way he could tell his dark knight that he couldn't meet with him this evening. A dark voice in the back of his mind told him that the mysterious man wouldn't have shown up anyways. 

"Very well, Mr. Carson."

Each of the lords and ladies in attendance were served with the utmost care that evening. Thomas had been diligent in his work, for Lord Merton and his sons were visiting along with Philip and the others. Part of him felt guilty for ignoring the Duke of Crowborough in favor of completing his tasks, but Thomas needed a distraction that wasn't a man. Sybil looked worried, but he gave her a tight-lipped smile he hoped was more reassuring than it felt. There were many guests at the table, some he recognized and others he didn't, but he treated them with the same polite indifference he had mastered long ago.

His thoughts were rife with unpleasant unease, paranoia, doubt, and insecurities. Thomas was aware of Philip's eyes on him, but he was lost in the dark corners of his mind. What if he never got to meet his savior officially? What if the only way he would ever be able to be near him was if his life was in danger? Thomas wondered about the color of his eyes. He knew how the man tasted and how it felt to held in his arms through the night, but those were torturous memories tainted by the pain in his body or the blood on his wrists.

_Thomas's forehead was pressed into the hardwood floors. The first thought that entered his mind was that his blood would be a nightmare to clean up if he survived. The idea brought a dark chuckle to his lips, but something shifted in the room. A charged energy prickled against his skin and caused his fingers to spasm against the floor. "If I didn't know any better, Mr. Barrow, I would suspect that you did this just to see me," said the voice that haunted his dreams. "Come here, love."_

__For once, he didn't slide the blade across his forearms, for someone had finally kept a promise they made to him._ Those hands -those strong, capable hands carefully pulled him into a chest that soothed all of his worries away. Thomas's limbs felt as if they were made of lead, but wrapped in the warmth of his beloved, he felt light as a feather. Thomas's lips brushed the swatch of skin exposed at the base of the man's throat. "_ _You did say that you would come to me if I needed it. I...needed to be sure you weren't just in my imagination."_

A soft touch on his arm nearly caused Thomas's soul to jump out of his body. Sybil stood before him, her brow pinched with worry. "Are you alright?" she whispered. "Dinner has been over for a few minutes." Thomas shook his head to clear his thoughts but then nodded for Sybil's sake. She kissed him sweetly on the cheek despite the glare she received from her father and followed the other ladies out of the dining room. Thomas was tasked with overseeing the departure of the guests who were not staying for the weekend. The Dowager seemed to have a soft spot for him and did not comment on his absentmindedness over dinner. But she expressed that if he was ever in need of other employment, then he could ask her for a reference. Her offer shocked him, but Thomas made sure to recover from his shock in time to show his gratitude.

When the night finally slowed down, everyone downstairs was so drained of energy that no one spoke or did anything aside from eat their supper and head to bed. Mr. Mosley hovered in the doorway as was Thomas settling into his favorite chair beside the fire. "What is it, Mr. Mosley? Do you intend to stand there all night or do you have something to say?" Of course Thomas jumped into defense mode. He was tortured by terrifying images of Mosley catching him with Andy or seeing Jimmy climb out of the window.

"N-nothing is wrong, Barrow. I just...I found a letter addressed to you on the table when Andy and I were cleaning up this evening. I didn't open it, but I thought it was rather peculiar."

"A letter?" Thomas accepted the envelope from Mosley's jittery hands and fought the urge to roll his eyes or bark an insult. He waited until the footman was out of sight before opening it.

_You looked beautiful tonight, Raven._

_Love,_

_Your Dark Knight_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The mystery man will be revealed in the next chapter! Please look forward to more!


	7. Dark Knight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter you've all been waiting for.

He was, in truth, a victim of perpetual blackmail. The man he stared at in the mirror each morning had been guided by an iron fist his entire life, forced to conform to the ways of his tiresome and complicated family.

  
It all started with a kiss during a child's game of make believe. No one had ever told him it was wrong for a prince to save another prince from the tower until it was too late.

And the prince paid dearly for it.

  
He was watched and trained like an ill-bred mutt to behave according to his family's dictatorship. There were bruises and scars beneath his finery and even worse wounds in his mind. His family had even sent him off to war to "become a real man" or die trying. And all the while he dined with the lords and ladies of aristocracy, falling in love with the one person forbidden to him. Thomas Barrow.

  
Thomas's dark hair shined beneath the candlelight. He was like a bird in a cage, his Raven, dreaming of flying but never being allowed to soar. He even watch Thomas during the war and many years after. Some would find his obsession with the other man appalling, but what choice did he have? He couldn't survive anymore "treatment" or beatings. He was a diplomat, a people's politician, and part of a very powerful family....he couldn't love Thomas without risking his life.

_But would it be a death we both would welcome in exchange for a real moment?_

And that was the thought that inspired the prince to go to the tower one more time. If Thomas rejected him as he was, then he would never go to him again. If he could love the Prince and the Dark Knight, then he would devote his life to finding a way for them to be together. And so he crept through the halls like a theif in the night, swathed in the same clothes he wore to dinner so there would be no mistake, and timing his movements perfectly.

He was scheduled to stay for the weekend along with that pathetic Duke, so if anyone stopped him in the halls, be would simply say that he needed to make a phone call. When he finally arrived at Thomas's room he cracked open the door a little and found him asleep on the writing desk.

There would be no hiding in the shadows in this light with such tight quarters. He steeled himself and placed a hand on his dearest's shoulder. And like his bird counterpart, Thomas lifted his head, but did not turn around just yet...wanting to build anticipation for himself while torturing his admirer.

And when he stared into those molten silver-blue eyes, he saw surprise and...denial.

"Before you judge me, Thomas, think of your own situation," he pleaded."We have both done incriminating things, but...my story is more complicated than you could ever imagine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He's a character we don't know much about and having that monster for an older brother means trouble. He's like a blank canvas...an extremely handsome blank canvas.


	8. Sever Your Ties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is pure fluff. Much-needed Thomas romance.

"You misunderstand," Thomas Barrow hastened to say. "I know how it feels to be loved by you and held by you...and that is all I need to know. I've seen your heart, Tim. I do not need to know the rest to be sure of how I feel, but you must understand why this is hard for me. I've known you for so long...well, I've observed you, I should say-"

"Do you think you are the only one?" Tim stepped closer, but did not invade Thomas's personal space -though part of him desperately wished he would, for he wanted nothing more than to be held. "I was tortured with years of being near you without being able to touch or kiss or even speak to you. My beautiful raven in his cage, fluttering around to serve these ungrateful blue-bloods and their friends. Your scent was forever engraved into my senses. I would return home and beg the gods to release me from your hold. Whatever spell you've cast upon me, Thomas, it has been both heaven and hell."

The intensity in Tim's gaze was threaded with sadness and it called out to Thomas. He was the one who closed the gap between them and pulled Tim into a comforting embrace. "I never even thought someone at that table would be interested in a person in service. I mean, there have been the casual rump around the abbey or secret tryst, but nothing like this. No one ever speaks of you, Tim. And you hardly ever speak either, but when you do, your brother is there to turn the entire evening sour. You've been very good at hiding your affections."

"Have I?" Tim asked with amusement as he tightened his arms around Thomas and breathed him in. "Because I thought I looked like a weepy little twat that couldn't stop staring at you. Matthew Crowley caught me on several occasions and came to speak with me one afternoon. He told me that you were...like me. That you were interested in men. When Matthew and I served in the army, he used to allow me time to visit you, but I never had the courage to actually approach. I would simply watch you bustle around saving lives with Lady Sybil."

Thomas moved back just enough to stare into those haunting eyes. "You watched me during the war?"

"I did, but I was stationed elsewhere after a few weeks," Tim explained. "And I was so happy when you returned, though I was saddened to hear that it had been because of an injury."

"One that I caused..." Thomas tried to remove himself from Tim's hold, but the intense man held him tighter.

"Tell me."

"It mustn't have been too long after you left, but I was attacked by the men in my unit. They held me down and forced me to perform for them. After that, I couldn't be bothered to stay. I was terrified it would happen again and I started to hesitate to save their lives. I didn't want those animals to live if I couldn't die...so I lifted my hand above the trench and lit my lighter. Took a bullet to the hand."

Instead of judging Thomas, Tim lifted the scarred hand and gently removed the glove. He kissed the hideous limb as if it were something of beauty to be adored. "So brave," he whispered.

"No. I'm not and that's alright. I've made peace with it. But what about you? What happened with you after the war?"

"I...was sent for treatment, though from what I hear you are no stranger to such things," Tim said sadly. "My brother sent me away to a facility specialized in "behavior Modification" and never told my father. Actually, now that I think about it, my mother and brother probably kept him in the dark about a lot of things. When we heard about Isobel Crawley and my father's courtship, I was thrilled even though I couldn't show it. That night Larry acted out in fear. He knew that if Mrs. Crawley were to enter into our family, she would uncover the horrid things he used to do to me and my father would find out."

"You should tell her."

"Perhaps I will," Tim supposed. He stepped away from Thomas and removed his jacket. "It was the thought of you, Thomas, that never allowed me to change. I held on to the memory of your sent and your image until it was all that I knew. Even when gaps began to appear in my memory, times when I would black out and wake up not knowing what had happened, I thought of you and everything was alright."

Tim undressed until he wore nothing but his socks, undershirt, and boxer shorts and climbed into Thomas's bed. He lifted a corner of the blanket and beckoned him to lie down. Thomas was helpless to deny him anything, but something weighed heavily in his heart. "If I choose you -if I decide to take on the challenge of being with you entirely, then I must do so with caution. It isn't just your heart and mine invested in this. What of Jimmy? Andy? Edward? Philip? I love them, too."

"No, you don't."

Thomas jumped out of the bed. "Don't tell me how to feel."

Tim was unfazed by his outburst. He sat up with cool composure. "Your bankrupt Duke is the biggest player in London and the worst gambler. Be glad that you haven't been intimate with him since his return. He spends all of his time at sleazy inns with prostitutes. And Edward Courtenay, your lieutenant, is engaged to be married to the very woman he has been with since his youth. You knew he was not gay when you met him and yet you allowed your heart to think otherwise."

"What about Jimmy and Andy? Were they terrible men using me too or was our affection made up in my mind?"

"No, I do think James Kent loves you, but he does so recklessly. Sneaking into your window? Fighting over you in a bar? He'll send both of you to the gallows with his foolishness...or just you, for he seems the sort to cut his losses and point the finger of blame elsewhere. He's a boy in his first faze of love, not a man who knows his heart. You shouldn't be someone's experiment. And Andrew...the moment Daisy bats her eyelashes in his direction, he'll settle down with the lovely girl."

"You aren't so perfect yourself," Thomas snapped.

"No, I am not perfect. But what I am and have always been...is entirely devoted to Thomas Barrow. There has never been another for me since I first laid eyes on you. No man nor woman has turned my head since the day I stepped out of my stagecoach for the first time and you were standing there with the other staff as a hall boy. Lady Sybil was a good friend of mine in our youth because I was only two years older than she, but she saw me gawking at you once and never even laughed at me for it. In fact, she encourage it until I told her about my first experience in loving a boy. We never talked about it since, but it still stuck in my mind that at least one person accepted me."

"You've been....in love with me since I was hall boy?"

"It's embarrassing, I know, but you were even beautiful then and your beauty only grows through the years."

"And you've been watching me ever since?" Thomas questioned in awe.

"When I could, yes. The rest I either learned from Sybil or Mrs. Hughes. If I couldn't be allowed to love you right, then I would love you from afar and watch you flourish. And through the years, you never broke free of your cage, Raven. But I think it is time that I set you free."

"What changed? Why now?"

"The thought of you loving someone who would never cherish you in the way that I have. It has torn me to shreds inside. Any bloke worth his salt should never have allowed you to dwell in such darkness alone. It shouldn't have been me standing over your shoulder while trying to let you go. It should have been one of them, but they failed you time and time again. But I've had enough. I will love you the right way, Thomas. You deserve to be treated with respect and compassion."

"I've been sold this speech before," Thomas replied bitterly. Tim ignored him and pulled Thomas back into the bed. Familiar arms held him captive in the most beautiful way. But when Tim tried to kiss him for the first time, he turned his head away. "I-I'm dirty. I let the others touch me today and it makes me feel unclean to have been with them and then to have you kiss me. I've washed and cleaned, but I still feel dirty after what you've told me."

Tim, of course, didn't listen to Thomas's rambling. He turned Thomas's face back toward him with a firm grip on his chin and gently brushed his lips against the other man's. "You've never seemed more clean." Something broke and Thomas pushed his hands into Tim's perfect hair and deepened the kiss. But he was not in control. No -not with Tim. Tim was always in control. Tim set the pace and the depth until the kiss was so perfect that Thomas began to tremble. He realized what had been missing with the others, what always kept him from giving in to one of them before now. Real love had been missing, but it was here. It was in every brush of lips, every stroke of the tongue, and every whimper that punctuated Thomas Barrow's undoing. This love...it was dark...it was dangerous, but it was more beautiful than anything he had ever felt.

This didn't feel like love between two friends as it did with Jimmy. Or a fond infatuation between two damaged soldiers. Bloody hell, it wasn't a rough exchange in a kitchen pantry or a hurried affair between a valet and a lord, either. In this bed, with Tim flooding his senses, it was nothing more than two souls finding one another in a world where neither of them truly belonged. Tim didn't try to pacify him with pretty words or spare his feelings. Tim told him the truth even if it hurt Thomas to do so. It was an honest love.

When the kiss broke, he was breathless and weightless, floating on a cloud. Tim showered him with affection, thumb stroking circles into his cheek. "I will be here for the weekend. Sever your ties with the others and I will spend my life making sure you never regret it. Choose me, Thomas. Choose the man who has loved you always. And then I will tell you of my plan."

"Plan?"

"You didn't think I would risk your safety and wellbeing without a plan, did you?" Tim asked, looking genuinely affronted. "Thomas, unlike those other fools you've entertained yourself with, I only want what is best for you. My title, my inheritance, everything...is yours to do with as you please. Do you want to fight into a new era as a couple and force them to see us as we are? Or do you want to give it all up and start anew? Whatever you choose, I have a plan."

"My happiness comes at your expense?"

"As it should," Tim stated with conviction. "But anyone who has ever been in love knows that the happiness of their beloved comes at no expense at all if it is freely given. Together, we shall either fly above the smoke or walk into the flames."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This is the last chapter of pure bliss. Angsty, angsty, chapters will follow this one.


	9. Black And Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry.

Thomas Barrow awakened to the sunlight streaming in through the curtains of his tiny bedchamber, but for once it didn't feel oppressive. The bed was empty, but his heart was full as he climbed to his feet. There was a renewed energy within him that made want to shout with happiness. He gathered his things and shuffled into the corridor to take a bath. When he noticed Andy's livery lain across the chair in the corner, Thomas turned to take his leave, but was stopped.

"Wait. You can come in, it isn't like we haven't seen one another before."

"Wouldn't want to taint your sparkling reputation if anyone were to notice," Thomas replied with more animosity than he thought was inside of him. "It wouldn't be appropriate."

"Since when?"

 _Alright, Thomas,_ he thought. _Now or never._ "Whatever it was that we had before, it's over. I'm not going to bend over for you until Daisy decides to give you chance, Andy. I'm not worth much, but I'm worth more than that."

"Where is this coming from? We always knew our fun was temporary."

"Yes, but I'm looking for something a bit more...permanent. Something you can't give me." Thomas felt emboldened for a brief moment. Until...

"I'll tell them you forced me," Andy scorned. "I'll tell them you tried to seduce me into sin."

Thomas's gut clench in repulsion. "That ain't you, Andy. You're a good lad, one who will make some girl very happy. If you tell anyone that, the scandal will follow you for the rest of your life. Jimmy learned that the hard way."

"So, you're breaking it off with him too, then?" Andy asked, looking rather ashamed of his threats.

"I am. There's someone out there who loves me -and not just for a pretty face, but for _me._ For _Thomas Barrow_ , flaws and all. He knows everything of my past and for some reason that hasn't changed his mind. I can't let something real pass me by for a possibility." And so Thomas took his leave and washed up in his room as best as he could before changing into fresh clothes for the day. A knock sounded on the door and Thomas paused before calling, "You may enter."

Sybil burst through the door and slammed it behind her. Her cheeks were flushed and there was an impish glint in her doe-like eyes. "One moment," she insisted when he tried to speak. "The others are on their way. Once the hall is clear, they'll come in."

And, much to his surprise, a throng of people clustered in his room. Lady Mary and Matthew, Tom and Sybil, Mrs. Hughes, Mrs. Patmore, Mosley and Baxter, the three children, and Lady Grantham all filled his intimate lodgings. "Why am I under the impression that no one else is aware of this little meeting?" Thomas said. He was more than a little flustered, but he bowed his head to his most honorable guests even though they hadn't been invited. Timothy Grey, his dark knight and his savior, was the last to enter. He grasped Thomas's hand brazenly, knowing he was about to think the worst of the situation.

"Deep breaths, sweet creature. They are here in support."

"W-What? You told them?"

"Indeed. If we are going to walk through the flames or fly, we must have an army at our back. All of these lovely people have gifted us with their support. They are happy for us," Tim stated. "I thought you would be more inclined to accept my offer if you knew that I wasn't the only soul in the world who loves you. All of them, as well as the Dowager, Lady Rose, Lady Edith and her beau, and several of the downstairs staff have also extended their blessing."

"The Dowager?" Thomas exclaimed. "Is that why she offered to be a reference the other night? A-am I fired, Lady Grantham?"

Her Ladyship shook her head, but a smile brightened her face. "No, I wouldn't let it happen. Not after everything you've done for this family. I'm sure there is more that we are unaware of, but Sybil filled us in on the important bits. We're happy to help."

"Granny was thrilled when we told her," Sybil exclaimed. "She said it was about time. We were all shocked to hear it, but it's true! Sometimes I think she favored you over most people in this house."

"She was the first I told of my intentions beside Lady Sybil, of course," Tim said, squeezing Thomas's hand until he looked up at him. "I half expected her to hail the police, but she is quite the romantic at heart. I know this must be overwhelming for you after so many years of thinking you were alone, but there is sanctuary from the storm. I will go no further if you choose to accept another-"

"There is no other. No one else matters."

Lady Mary beamed over at Thomas. "I've always seen a bit of myself in you, Thomas. I'm glad you can find love as splendid as Matthew's and mine. The others will come around in time. Mama will speak with Lord Grantham and ease him into the idea."

One by one, they all embraced Thomas. Tom and Sybil even shed a few tears for him and he was grateful. When his room was emptied once more aside from the glorious man still holding his hand, Thomas let himself cry. It wasn't a pretty cry, either, it was a blubbering mess that he should have been embarrassed for, but he wasn't. The only person to witness his breakdown was the man who loved him unconditionally. Tim's lips brushed against his ear. "You have a half day. Let's go out for a drink and settle your nerves."

"What if someone sees?"

"All they will see is two men having a drink and discussing the future. I will be tempted to hold your hand or kiss you now that I've had the pleasure of knowing you in such ways, but I would never endanger you." Timothy kissed the back of Thomas's knuckles and left him to finish preparing for the day. His steps were lighter as he worked. He even took the time to phone Jimmy and Edward to let them know that he was no longer available for their...meetings. Jimmy pouted through the phone for a while, but in the end, he wished Thomas well. "We've always been friends, you and I. I won't lose my best mate over this even if I will always want more."

Edward was shaken but a bit relieved when he hadn't had to break the news to Thomas about his engagement. They all parted ways amicably even if there was some awkwardness between him and Andy. Thomas had neither accepted nor denied Philip, so he just left things as they were. "I'm doing this," Thomas said aloud in disbelief. "I can't believe I'm actually choosing...love."

He changed into his best clothes and ran out the servant's hall with his jacket. Thomas nearly ran right into Tom on his way, but he clutched the burly shoulders of the ex-chofer and it helped him keep his balance. "Christ, Tom, you should've said somethin'."

"I was looking for you, actually," Tom said in a way that made Thomas flinch. 

"What is it?"

"Mr. Carson...he...he called and left a message with Lord Merton's butler, but it was Larry who got the message," Tom explained. "Sybil wants to try and talk Larry down, but I wouldn't let her because I don't trust him."

"What happened?"

"Larry was still nearby and it was only a few hours away from where he was staying. He arrived at lunch and took Timothy with him. None of us could stop him, but I tried Thomas, I really did. Lord Grantham still doesn't know and some of the others are in the dark as well, we couldn't risk them finding out until you said so. Larry...he...he was quite violent." There was a bruise forming beneath Tom's eye. "He came in and insulted everyone in the room, even Lord Grantham. Matthew took him down a few pegs, but he still got away. I'm sorry, Thomas."

"Larry would kill Timothy before he allows him to be happy. He won't let shame come down on his household while he's so close to inheriting everything," Thomas shouted. People came pouring out of the abbey as he struggled to maintain his composure. "I...I need help, Tom. I need to get him back, but I don't know how without ruining everything."

"I know men like Larry. He'll most likely hurt Tim, but I don't think he'll kill him just yet. We've got time and you have all the help in the world."

"Isobel. We need Isobel Crowley and...and the Dowager. They know how Larry is, if anyone can get in and make sure that Tim is safe until we come up with something, it'll be them." Thomas was shaking from head to toe. Whether it was fear or anger or both, he couldn't say. Hands ushered him back into the house. Mrs. Hughes and Anna minimized the damage of his outburst while everyone else carried on with their day. Mrs. Patmore brought Thomas tea, but he could practically taste her pity in the brew.

Baxter hovered over him and fussed when she wasn't helping Her Ladyship. Thomas just wanted air...he wanted Tim, but just when he was within reach, something tore them apart. Matthew Crowley came into the servant's hall after a while. His face had a few scratches, but there wasn't much damage done. Thomas apologize profusely, but Matthew waved him off. "Please, Thomas. After what he said to my mother, I was more than happy to throw a few punches."

Thomas didn't know what to say, but he nodded. The rest of his day off was spent listening to Mrs. Hughes defend him to Mr. Carson. He hadn't wanted to come between the newly married couple, but..."Thomas is the closest I've ever had to a son, Charlie! I love him dearly and it pains me to know that my own husband has had a hand in his suffering more than any other person in this house!"

"He's a heathen! A sinner!"

"No, he isn't. He's a human being. Thomas has made mistakes just like anyone else, but what he is...no... _who_ he is...is not a sin. He was born just as God intended and I will not tolerate anyone treating him differently because of it. He is in love and, for the first time, it's _real._ "

Thomas walked away, overcome with by an onslaught of emotion that he didn't have the mind to handle. He ran outside and dashed into the woods, running as fast as he could for however long his legs could carry him. And then he let himself slump to the ground. Why didn't the world want him to be happy? Was he to be punished forever? Thomas felt as if someone had reached into his heart and tore out something vital. It couldn't have been his heart, for his heart was being tortured by Larry Grey for all he knew.

"Hold on, my love," Thomas whispered to the wind. "We will find you."

"I'm sure he knows that," said a voice that startled him nearly to death. Mr. Bates stood not far from where he had collapsed. "You and I haven't seen eye to eye over the years, Thomas, but I never wished you any harm. What that Larry Grey did was awful. I saw it."

Thomas let his impassive mask slide over his face as he stood up. "What's this about, Bates? Came to rub it in my face?"

"On the contrary, I came to offer my assistance." John Bates was an enigmatic man. "You are aware that I do not always play by the rules, much like yourself, but I'm more careful. If you need...anything...let me know. I might not like you, but it would break Anna's heart to know that love had been thwarted by evil."

"And anything that breaks Anna's heart-"

"Get's broken in turn," growled John Bates.


	10. For Your Discretion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter is dark. Like...proceed with caution. Some things might be very disturbing for those who are sensitive to the topic of abuse and violence.

Blood sprayed from between his lips as another punch landed painfully against his jaw. Timothy Grey strained against the chains that held him bound to the stone floor of the servant's hall of the vacant property his brother owned just for the purpose of torturing him beyond the limits of his physical and psychological tolerance. His teeth ached and nausea rolled through his body in waves. Tears burned in his eyes as his painfully numb fingers clawed at the floor, breaking his fingernails as he braced himself for the next assault on his body. A face that had been the source of his nightmares since he was old enough to know fear hovered over him.

"You are pathetic, Timmy. Disgusting and disgraceful to this family."

The metallic tang of his own blood filled his mouth and poured out of the corners of his lips. He spit and gurgled as the hits rained down upon him. Timothy had thought he had grown used to his brother's cruelty, but he had been terribly wrong. What he feared most was forgetting Thomas. There were times when gaps would appear in his mind from the trauma, but he lived with the anxiety that he would forget the face of the man he loved. "P-p-please, Larry," he gasped.

Larry rolled the sleeves of his impeccably white shirt up to his elbows and loosened the tie around his neck. "Oh, I don't think so, baby brother. Do you have any idea how embracing it was to hear from Mr. Carson that you had lowered yourself to such a level? A man should not love a man! It goes against the laws of humanity. What would father think if he knew that the only hope for our bloodline started and ended with me?...I guess it doesn't matter now seeing as he's dying."

 _Father is dying?_ Timothy had been banned from seeing his father since the shameful dinner at Downton. This time his tears were not for himself, but for the years he would never have with his father. Despite the oblivious nature of their relationship, Timothy had always loved his father. He flinched and tried to fight against the chains once more as a sharp razor appeared in his brother's hand. It slashed out three times, cutting him along the ridges of his ribcage, adding to the pain he felt each time he drew a ragged breath.

The phone in the corridor rang and Larry set the blade aside to answer. "What is it, darling?" he heard his brother ask. There was several moments of silence that gave Timothy enough time to try and steady his thunderous heartbeat. When Larry spoke again, he sounded dangerously angry. "Fine! Delay them. I'll be on my way soon."

Larry came back into the servant's hall and unchained Timothy. "Go upstairs and clean up. I want you dressed and presentable within the hour or else I will go back to the abbey and skin your queer alive. Do you understand?"

Timothy kept his head low and nodded. He placed a hand on the floor and attempted to stand, but his limbs felt like lead. When he took too long getting up, Larry kicked him back down, striking his tender ribs until he felt them crack under the beating. Air rattled in his lungs, but he managed to lean against the wall and pull himself up. Larry went to get himself changed as well, but Timothy's movements were slow and excruciating. There was no way to hide the bruises, cuts, and burst vessels in his face. His right eye was flooded with red, surrounded by ugly splotches of yellow and purple. He tore his gaze away and limped toward the front door.

The chauffeur handled their bags and drove them to the main house where Mrs. Crowley and the Dowager were awaiting with Larry's fiance in the drawing room. Timothy kept his eyes low under the order of Larry. He didn't acknowledge either woman nor did he speak unless his brother permitted it. Mrs. Crowley was daring enough to forcefully lift his head. He saw the sympathy in her eyes the instant she saw the state of his face. He nearly choked on the fear that crawled through his mind. If Larry thought he had tipped her off somehow, he would make sure that he and Thomas paid dearly for it. "Shall we have a spot of tea?" Mrs. Crowley said instead.

Amelia, Larry's cunning fiance, gave their two guests a very distressful expression. "I'm sure the accident has made Tim very tired. He should rest for the remainder of the day. Surely you would forgive his absence?"

"No," the Dowager said. "We would not, for it is Timothy that we are here to see."

"Would you mind if I spoke with you privately for a moment, Tim?" Mrs. Crowley asked. "Matthew told me about the time you served together in the war. I would really like to learn your side of the events. From what I hear, you saved his life a time or two."

Timothy stammered, unable to find his head or his tongue. Once again, Amelia took it upon herself to speak for him. "Timothy has suffered a great amount of trauma in the last few days. He's under a lot of stress. Please allow him to rest, Mrs. Crawley."

"My dear, the more you speak the less I find you charming," the Dowager retorted with the utmost grace and decorum.

Mrs. Crowley didn't wait for another discussion, she tucked her arm into his elbow and led him out to the gardens. He didn't ask how she was so familiar with the estate, but it was clear that a combination of his father's courtship and his father's illness had contributed. They strolled in silence for a while and Timothy was grateful to have someone to lean on until they reached a corner of the house that was out of sight of the the others. "You don't have to hold yourself up any longer, Tim."

He sighed his gratitude and fell against he wall. A whimper escaped his lips before he could catch it, but Mrs. Crowley didn't look at him as though he were pathetic. In fact, it seemed to reenforce something within her. "I don't know everything about your situation, my boy, but I will do what I can for you. Thomas had Mr. Branson reach out to us and ask that we kept an eye on you. Once I was more informed of your situation and seeing your condition now, I see it as my duty to be more bold than I have been."

"Please...Mrs. Crowley, people will get hurt if my brother is slighted in any way. He wants the inheritance so much he's willing to kill for it. I will not let the blood of others be on your hands."

"You would rather he continue this despicable display of character?" she asked sharply. "If I can help, please let me, Tim. I might not be your mother, but I-"

"You're more woman than my mother ever was," he cried softly, wiping the tears away with fingers that were still trying to circulate blood correctly. "It was her and Larry that started this. After she was gone, his...discipline for me worsened, but it was she who started this nightmare. Nothing of what Larry said that night at dinner reflect my thoughts at all...I actually admire your strength."

"Then let me use it to help you." She reached into her small handbag and handed Timothy a folded scrap of paper. He fumbled with unfolding it, so she aided him with a patient smile. The note was from Thomas and it caused Timothy to break down further. Thank goodness, Isobel Crowley was a trained nurse, for she helped him through the panic attack with practiced ease. Thomas, his raven, was coming for him. Thomas was risking everything to make sure that he survived whatever Larry had in mind.

_It's time for you to be saved from the tower, my prince. We're breaking free and flying together._

_Love,_

_Your Raven_

Amelia appeared from the doorway and glared at them. "Tea has been served," the insufferable woman said. Mrs. Crowley stepped away from Timothy as he pulled himself up and headed into the house in front of her. He went through tea using all of the motions that were expected of him without speaking, of course. Timothy tasted blood each time he opened his mouth. Even the tea burned the cuts on his tongue and the gashed on the inside of his cheek from where he had bit down to keep from screaming. He kept the flinching to a minimum, but it was obvious that he was uncomfortable.

When Amelia tried to hurry Mrs. Crowley and the Dowager out the door, Mrs. Crowley stopped. "Actually, there is one more thing I must do before we leave." The woman brazenly walked toward the staircase and hurried through the upper corridor. Larry, Timothy, and Amelia followed after her. Larry demanded that the "insane" woman stop in her tracks, but Mrs. Crowley matched his brother in stubbornness. Amelia tried to block her entrance to his father's room, but the door opened suddenly.

His...well-looking father opened the door and stared between the four of them. "What in God's name is going on here? Isobel?"

"You look well, Lord Merton. Sadly, I can't say the same for the more tolerable side of your family. It would seem that many unseemly and downright revolting things have been going on that I think you would find-"

"That's enough!" Larry demanded, but Timothy could tell his father had actually _heard_ Mrs. Crowley.

"What is she talking about, Larry?" Richard Grey, Lord Merton, asked. "Tell me this instant."

"It's nothing to concern yourself with, father," Amelia said.

"The truth is, you are a prisoner in your own home, Lord Merton. But that ends now. I accept your proposal under the condition that while we are here and your affairs are put in order, Larry must not be left alone with Tim."

"Why?" his father asked. "What has Larry done?"

"The question should be inquiring what Timothy has done, father," Larry sneered. "For his sins are much greater than that of my own."

Timothy began to shake violently, struck by the fear that his father would treat him differently for having known that he was in love with Thomas Barrow. He had never been given a reason to think that any member of his family would react with anything other than vile hatred at the knowledge of his love life. Mrs. Crowley was there for him once again, but Timothy began to see darkness cloud his vision. He couldn't seem to breathe in enough air. "You have to breathe, Tim!" she ordered. "On the count of three, take a deep breath. Come on!"

But his eyes rolled into the back of his head and Timothy fell to the floor with a loud thud. The last thought that crossed his mind was that Thomas would regret loving a hypocritical coward like him. But it wasn't Thomas and their love that he was ashamed of, but the fact that he had been a spineless punching bag for his brother's cruelty.


	11. War To Remember

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Mentions of past abuse, some mild violence, and possibly a conspiracy to commit murder...

Timothy blinked open his eyes and waited for the pain to come crashing down upon his senses, but it never came. Mrs. Crowley sat beside his bed with Dr. Clarkson, who pressed a hand his chest to keep him from falling out of the bed. Timothy struggled to see through the film over his eyes. He couldn't stand being held down and began to struggle, but the voice of the doctor broke through his fear. "There you are Timothy. Good to see you, my boy."

His blurry vision looked down to see the bandages that littered his body. The lack of pain so soon after his brother's beatings was unfamiliar and brought a tear to Timothy's eyes. Mrs. Crawley patted his arm. "Cousin Violet has made sure that Larry didn't speak a word against you until you were able to have a conversation with your father."

"I...I can't."

"I believe that you would find that he is not the villain that Larry made him out to be in your mind," she argued. "Dickie should be made aware of everything that has happened. And it might surprise you to find that he is nothing more than a loving father."

"W-would you stay with me?" He asked weakly. "I don't think I can face him alone. I've never seen my father so aware of anyone as he is with you. He hears you."

"Of course I will stay."

Through the corridor and beyond the bedchamber door, the Dowager's voice rang strong and authoritatively. "Glower all you like, Laurence, but if I have the last word -and I normally do- you and that creature you intend to call a wife will never see the light of day again."

Mrs. Crowley stepped into the hall and Timothy heard a chorus of voices bickering. A moment later, his father and Mrs. Crowley stepped inside the room as the Dowager kept the wolves at bay in the corridor. Dr. Clarkson cleared his throat and asked, "Would you like me to inform your father of your condition?"

Mrs. Crowley spoke up. "Yes, doctor. If you would please. Tim has been the one to live it, he shouldn't need to describe it to his father."

Dr. Clarkson looked to Timothy for permission. He nodded his head slightly.

"Lord Merton, your son has sustained numerous injuries that are consistent with a man who has been tortured for quite some time. What concerns me the most are the number of old injuries he had to have acquired roughly around the age of seven." The good doctor paused to allow the information to sink in. "It implies that Larry was not the only one to abuse Timothy, though he may have been the more violent aggression. Though that is terrible news for you, it is not the worst of it. I'm not sure how long, but...at some point I fear the abuse may even have....turned to a sexual nature."

Timothy rolled over in the bed and expelled the contents of his stomach onto the floor. He heaved and heaved until nothing came but painful groans. Mrs. Crowley pressed a damp rag to his forehead. What would Thomas think if he heard that Timothy had never taken a lover willing? That his brother's abuse was far more sinister than anyone could imagine? He shivered in retaliation of his own retched body. He didn't want to see the disgust in his father's eyes. Mrs. Crowley helped him back onto the bed properly.

"His mother knew," she said. "In fact, she started it all. From what Thomas has expressed to me, your son believed that you had turned a blind eye to his suffering. For your sake, Lord Merton, I hope that he is wrong. If I have even an inkling that you had condoned such behavior, I will see to it that you and Larry are equally punished for the crimes against your youngest son."

"Tim," his father breathed, voice catching on a sob that hadn't been expected. "What brought all of this on?"

"I...I was caught kissing someone."

"Surely a simple kiss would not warrant such abuse," his father urged. "For the life of me, I cannot understand why Larry and your mother would do something so unforgivable. My dear son, you can tell me..."

"It was a boy, father. I was caught kissing a boy," Timothy cried. "Larry and Mother thought to dispel the sin from me. And for so long it seemed as though you had let them. Each time I thought I had gotten away, Larry would appear and drag me back to the depths. The serums, the electric shock, the torture, and the....rest...was as all because I dared to love a man." Timothy closed his eyes and tried to dream that he was lying in Thomas's arms in a cottage along the sea or a city flat. He felt some grab his arm and lashed out. His father caught him before the hit could land and Timothy saw tears misting in his eyes. His father looked at him....actually _looked_ for the first time in many years.

"I am so terribly sorry. I am sorry for what has been done to you and that you never felt as though you could come to me. I love you, Tim. You are my son no matter who you love. And Larry, as Mrs. Crowley said, will be punished for the crimes against you. In my eyes, he is no longer my son," his father stated. "We live in troubled times, Timothy, but the views of the world at large are not those of your father. You are free to love as you see fit and I will not pass judgement."

Timothy wept in his father's arms until his injuries protested. Mrs. Crowley replaced the rag on his head and muttered, "Now, we must allow you to rest. Some guests are arriving and we all have an interest in putting an end to Larry's actions."

From the hall came the voice of the Dowager shouting, "Some of us would simply like to put an end to Larry!"

"Hear hear," Mrs. Crowley said.

* * *

Thomas Barrow was dressed to the nines, flanked by Tom Branson and John Bates. The three of them looked like well-dressed gangsters more than a lord and two servants. Behind them was Matthew and Mary Crowley as well. But they all knew the most dangerous force in the fold was already in the house, for the Dowager could make mountains move with a simple look. No one bothered knocking. Politeness was beyond them all at this point. Larry Grey stormed towards Thomas. "I will not let you ruin everything that I have built here-"

Bates' cane struck out and caught Larry in the middle. The so-called gentleman buckled under the force of the blow, but Lady Mary's voice was soft as she spoke. "Do be careful Bates. We wouldn't want to risk your cane slipping again and end up damaging the wood."

"Yes, my lady."

The throng of newcomers filled the entrance hall. From the top of the stairs appeared Lord Merton, Mrs. Crowley, Dr. Clarkson, and the Dowager. Thomas bowed his head to the lords and ladies, but shook Dr. Clarkson's hand. Larry Grey shuffled to his feet and shoved Thomas, causing him to stumble into Bates. If not for the quick reaction from Matthew, they all would have toppled over. The heir of the Grantham fortune stood between Larry Grey and all the others. "Strike me," he dared. "I am practically brimming with the need to find one more reason to send you to the gallows, you fiend."

Lady Mary placed her hand gently on that of her husband's shoulder, trying to calm the rage that thickened the air in the room. Branson looked ready to floor Larry, but Lord Merton's voice cut through the tension. "Larry," he barked. "You disappoint me. You have been a disgrace to this family, our name, our reputation, and that of those we hold dear. I am utterly disgusted and furious that you-"

" _I_ am the disappointment? When Timothy has been living a life of sin beneath this roof?! The very air he breathes is tinted with blasphemy. He is an abomination. A _queer_ ," Larry sneered.

Amelia moved to stand by his side, earning a fierce glare from Lady Mary and the other women present. She silently stated her loyalties before walking over to Matthew and smacking him across the face. The sound reverberated through the entrance hall. "You will not speak to my fiance in that manner! You have insulted our home and our-"

The palm that struck the face of Miss Amelia Cruikshank was so loud it sounded like a clap of thunder. Lady Mary's cheeks were flushed red against the paleness of the rest of her complexion. She stood over Amelia in barely composed dignity. "The penalty for assaulting my husband is dealing with the wrath of his wife."

When Larry lunged toward Mary in Amelia's defense, Branson and Bates slammed him to the wall and held him in a punishing grip. Lord Merton walked over to his eldest son with a swagger of pure contempt. "From this day forth, you are no longer my son. You are stripped of title, the Grey name, and your inheritance. The day you and your mother laid a finger on Timothy, you were dead to me, Larry. See to it that you and Miss Cruikshank are out of my home immediately."

"That is _if_ Miss Cruikshank would even be interested in a former lord without a title, home, or name of his own," the Dowager commented. "She does not strike me as a young lady who would be satisfied with a disowned pariah." She tilted her head in a manner that was profoundly condescending and gestured toward Matthew. "While Lord Merton may think disownment equal to that of the crimes committed, I do not. Phone the police and tell them that I demand the immediate removal of this man from the eyes of society. In fact, I may even write a letter to the royal family to petition his exile."

"I must say that I agree with you, Cousin Violet," Mrs. Crowley hummed.

However -Thomas, Bronson, and Bates all shared a look that said they intended a much more permanent solution to the plague amongst mankind that was Larry Grey. He was a threat to them all. Larry Grey was violent, murderous, and unpredictable...and John Bates was his equal in those qualities. Thomas had heard enough. He nodded to his comrades, his supporters -no, his _family_ \- and then bounded up the stairs to find his beloved. "Timothy!" he shouted. "Tim!"

"I'm in here, Thomas!"

He burst through the door and dropped to his knees beside the bed, overcome with relief and so much sadness at seeing Timothy. Thomas kissed the uninjured parts of his face and brushed a hand through the dark locks of hair that just begged to be touched. Timothy wanted more than kisses on his cheeks and forehead, though. He grasped Thomas by the front of his shirt and pulled him into a real kiss. Thomas worried about hurting the cuts on Timothy's lips, but his love wouldn't allow him to move away. Timothy was desperate for Thomas. They severed the kiss only long enough to breathe, not hearing footsteps approach.

"After all you've been through, making you my sole heir is the least I could do," Lord Merton said from the doorway. Thomas finally stepped away from the bed, but his hand protectively wound itself around Timothy's. Lord Merton nodded his approval. "If you want it, it's yours. For the both of you. I find myself increasingly tired and I wish to spend my days with Isobel without the worries of upholding the duties expected of a lord."

"Thank you for the offer," Thomas said. "But I am afraid we must decline for now. It is time for Timothy and I to start thinking about what _we_ want and not what everyone wants for us. This is not goodbye, but please allow us some time to cope with what has happened to the both of us."

"Take however long you need." Lord Merton looked to Timothy then. "I can never make up for the time we lost, Tim, but I hope we can be there for one another in the future. Whatever you need is yours no matter the cost. I wish you only happiness and the brightest of days, my boy."


	12. The Measure of Wrath And Decorum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This scene is really VERY graphic. It features detailed talk of rape, torture, and other forms of abuse. Incest, homophobic slurs and hate speech, etc. Do not read if you are triggered by someone talking about these things. This asshat goes into detail about what he did to Tim and it might be painful. Trust me, it was painful to write it. 
> 
> Also, a murder takes place.

Amelia shrieked in indignation as the police arrested her. Lady Mary was all too keen to list off the number of charges she wished to press against the woman who had struck her husband. The Dowager, Lord Merton, Mrs. Crowley, and Matthew piled into their cars to follow the police car. Bronson and Bates volunteered to hold Larry Grey until a second transport could be arranged. However, that was the last time anyone had seen the three of them for a number of weeks aside from Thomas. Though everyone had questions, Thomas had no answers he was willing to give. His statement to the police was very straight forward as he told them that Larry attempted to escape in fear of being exiled, so Bates and Bronson chased after him.

Larry Grey was now a fugitive -or so that was what the papers called him. In Thomas's mind, he was the very bane of the earth. He kissed the crown of Tim's head and let his beloved rest for the night. Each day was spent tending to the needs of the man he adored while his nights were spent elsewhere. An unusual rhythm rapt upon the door of the servant's hall and he was greeted by the callous face of Tom Bronson. "You ready?" he asked.

Thomas nodded his head and brushed a hand through his meticulously styled hair, causing a wisp of black to curl over his forehead. They walked to Bronson's car and drove deep into the country. A long, winding path took them to a hovel in the middle of the forest. Bates leaned against the open doorway with blood-spattered sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His waistcoat looked a bit wrinkled and his hair was disheveled, but other than that, John Bates held himself with all the dignity expected of a footman to an Earl. Beneath that faint mask of decorum was a beast, one Thomas had challenged to a battle of wits more times than he could count. Now, that beast assisted in a job very few had the stomach for.

Bates led Thomas and Bronson into the hovel where the manifestation of Thomas's vengeance hung from ceiling by his wrists. Bronson removed his jacket and followed Bates's lead by rolling up his sleeves. The two burly men circled Larry Grey as Thomas snapped his fingers, starling the man from his pain-induced state of unconscious. "Y-you'll pay for this, Barrow. My father won't rest until I'm found," Larry sputtered.

Thomas couldn't hold back the vicious smile that curled on his lips. "Your father is too busy slandering your name across the country to be bothered with your disappearance. Not to mention his involvement in the planning of his own wedding." The former under butler glared at Larry. "He disowned you, remember? You are no longer Larry Grey. You're simply...Larry. The world will remember you as the man who tried to lock his father up to steal his fortune. The man who committed unspeakable acts upon his brother. Larry the homosexual who tried to marry a viper to hide the sins of past."

"I'm no queer!"

Bronson's fist collided with Larry's jaw, causing the man's head to snap to the side. Thomas had taken a beating a time or two and knew the man's ears must be ringing. "What else do you call a man who forces himself onto another man? Homosexual behavior is illegal and so is rape," Bates said impassively. However, Thomas was aware of the sickening act of violence that had befallen Anna in the past. Bates wasn't as unfazed by this as he appeared. The married couple were still struggling to work through the trauma.

Larry's bottom lip trembled and tears fell from his eyes. "I'm not like you! They...they cannot think that I'm..." He dissolved into a fit of hysterical blubbering. Bate's gripped Larry's face in a biting hold.

"It doesn't matter what they think. The world will be a better place when we're through with you."

"Then why prolong it?" Larry asked. "Why torture me without asking for anything?"

Thomas walked right up to the broken, weepy man who had tried to ruin so many lives. "Because I wanted you to feel a fraction of what you put Tim through. I wanted you to cry and dream of a better world only to awaken to more pain. I wanted you to fear the sound of your own breathing and flinch whenever the wind blew."

Bronson and Bates lifted Larry down from the ceiling and bound his arms behind his back. Thomas grabbed a handful of Larry's hair in his gloved hands and shoved him through the door. The man tumbled to the ground, shouting when bits of gravel scraped against his wounded body. Thomas, Bates, and Bronson forced Larry to walk down to the river not far from hovel. He stumbled here and there, whimpering as he toddled along. Thomas felt no sympathy.

They reached the rickety bridge that crossed the roiling waters. Thomas unfolded a letter from the breast pocket of his jacket and cleared his throat. " _Dear Father -or anyone else willing to listen to a broken man's last words, if you are reading this, then I am already dead. I cannot bear to live with the things that I have done, for the guilt that plagues my heart has torn me asunder. It pains me to admit that the rumors surrounding my disappearance are true. I have failed you and the crown with my sins. God cannot forgive a man of my nature. For that, I do not beg for yours either. Though my pockets are filled with stones and water has replaces the air in my lungs, know that it does not make up for the damage that I had wrought. I am sorry. - Larry."_

"He'll never believe that. No one will."

Thomas turned over the letter to show Larry his own signature and handwriting. The skills that Bates learned in prison never failed to impress Thomas. "Oh, I think they will," he supposed. "This is only a copy. Someone matching your description has allowed every newspaper in London to print this on their front page." Bronson cut the ropes and filled Larry's pockets with stones. Thomas reached behind himself and pulled out Tim's revolver. He spun the cylinder and pressed the muzzle against the center of Larry's forehead. Bates tied Larry's ankles and stood back to admire his work.

The tears that had been streaming down their prey's face since they stepped into the forest stopped. "Do you want to hear what really happened to poor little Timothy?" Larry chuckled evilly. "Do you want to hear how he begged and moaned beneath me? It's true. He loved every second that I _defiled_ and _owned_ his body. I was his brother, Barrow. He _worshiped_ me until it broke him."

"Shut up!" Thomas demanded, his hand gripping the handle of the gun tighter.

"I would hurt him whenever he cried just to see the pain in his eyes. I got so hard watching him wiggle around, listening to him beg me to stop. I hurt him bad, Barrow. He cried and cried while I shoved my cock inside of him. I gave him what _queers_ like you deserve. The beatings...god, they were beautiful. Watching the welts, bruises, and cuts mar his pale skin..." Larry licked his lips just to watch Thomas's nostrils flare. "No matter what that letter says, I regret nothing. Because I know that long after my death and even when his body heals, Timothy will always feel me breathing down the back of his neck. He'll always feel my hands in places you would never dare to touch him."

"You're wrong. He's a survivor, not one of your victims."

Larry tossed his head back and laughed. "You really think he'll let you near him after what I did?"

Bronson kicked the railing of the bridge until it cracked and broke apart right behind Larry. The cold autumn air stung their faces as Thomas gritted his teeth and pulled back on the hammer. "You might have done all of those things, but I've been through that and more. It was Timothy that healed me. Even when I tried to distract myself and find love elsewhere, I knew that I was made for him. I will not stop trying to erase your filth from his soul. This time, I will be the one to heal _him_. No matter what it takes..."

Larry's gaze flickered between the three harsh stares aimed at him. Thomas pulled back on the hammer of the revolver and jutted his chin toward the river. "Jump," he ordered. Larry looked up at the sky, but made no move to do as he was asked. Thomas brought the butt of the gun down onto his head, knocking him unconscious. He watched Larry Grey's body hit the frigid water. Bronson turned Thomas back toward the trail as Bates swept the area for any damning evidence. Snow began to fall from the black and blue sky.

Thomas, Bronson, and Bates met up back at the road. Thomas reached the bag in the backseat of Bronson's car and pulled out two stacks of money. He attempted to hand them to his accomplices, but they both shook their heads. "I already told Sybil what we were doing before I came to get you," Tom Bronson said. "She said she'll keep quiet, but we both agreed that it needed to be done. There was talk at Amelia's hearing that if Larry showed his face in court then he would be able to fight the case. He could have walked free if we hadn't done this."

"Anna doesn't need to know," Bates said. "We were careful this time. The three of us did one hell of a job keeping this a secret and I'm glad. Hearing what happened to Timothy was enough to bring back all the memories of what happened to her. She can't even look at the newspapers anymore."

"So, none of you will take the money?"

"No, Thomas," Bronson said. "Use it for you and Timothy to go somewhere far away from all of this. For Christ's sake, go to America or something where this won't follow you for the rest of your lives. Everyone at Downton will understand. Just...don't force yourselves to stay in a place that brings you both pain."

That night Thomas Barrow to the house in Cavenham Park to pack his bags and ready Timothy's belongings for a long journey west. And when the sun peeked through the curtains the following morning, he brushed his hand over Timothy's forehead and kissed his cheek. Tim's eyes fluttered open. "Where were you?" he croaked, his throat still raw from all that had happened.

"I was getting everything ready."

"Ready for what?"

"Our future." Thomas kissed away the puzzled look on Tim's face as he climbed into the bed. His beloved flinched slightly, but took a deep breath and wrapped his arms around Thomas. They lay there for what felt like hours, just breathing for what felt like the first time in so long. "I love you, Tim. We both deserve to start over. You told me it was my choice what happened next...I choose to live with you in peace."

"Where?"

"Wherever we want," he answered. "But we can start in New York. I've already bought the tickets."

"As long as you're with me..."

"I'm not going anywhere."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, there is happiness on the horizon. Timothy is allowed to heal with Thomas's help and love blossoms into something beautiful.


	13. Where The Wild Things Roam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning. This is really graphic smut that marks the beginning of Thomas and Tim's happily ever after.

Thomas Barrow fastened the clamps of his suitcase and looked around the threadbare confines of his old room one last time. The ticking of his pocket watch seemed far too loud in the quaint space. He gathered his meager belongings and shuffled down the corridor. The rest of the staff gathered at the table for their breakfast, laughing amongst themselves as he approached. Silence fell when they caught sight of Thomas. His cheeks reddened and he attempted to put on the facade of smug indifference that he had worn through most of his years at the Abbey. "I suppose you're all glad to see me go..."

Mr. Mosley gave Thomas a jittery smile. "Actually, I believe most us will wish you well, Mr. Barrow. You haven't always been easy to live with, but we all see you as part of our little family down here."

Anna Bates stood up from her seat at the table and pulled Thomas into a warm hug. "I want to be happy, Barrow. If leaving Downton is what it takes for that to happen, then I won't stand in your way. But I'm sure Lady Mary will always welcome you back if you choose to return."

Thomas finished his goodbyes to those who cared to hear them and left out the back door. A car waited to take him into town. It took all of his strength not to look back when he set off down the road. Leaving Downton was like leaving his home. He had lived and worked in the Abbey since he was a boy. There were many memories and mistakes made in those great halls, but Thomas knew that his life with Tim wasn't meant to remain behind a curtain of lies. Though most of the people who lived at Downton were aware of his...differences, Thomas was tired of merely being tolerated.

The car stopped outside of Tim's home in London. Thomas's heart began to beat ravenously as he waited for his beloved to join him. Tim slid onto the seat beside Thomas and glanced into the driver's mirror before entwining their hands. Thomas's palms were sweaty, but Tim didn't seem to care. The rode in silence to the train station.

* * *

_Harlem_

_Manhattan, New York_

_America 1924_

The flat was rather small. Thomas unlocked the door and helped Tim carry in the luggage. There were no furnishings, but it was clean and intimate. Tim kissed Thomas on the cheek as he passed."Don't be such a snob, love. It's unbecoming." He set the bags beside the window and opened the curtains. The building was located at the heart of a predominantly colored neighborhood. Thomas had no quarrels accepting those who were a different skin color as himself, for he knew what it was like to be judged for something he hadn't chosen to be. In fact, he found most of their bold culture and music to be refreshing. And, according to Tim, there was a thriving queer community here in Harlem that Thomas couldn't wait to sink his teeth into.

Thomas closed the door and wandered over to the window that led to the fire escape. He cracked it open and lit the end of his cigarette, breathing in the bitter smoke before exhaling it through his nose. Tim watched him where he leaned against the wall, beautiful eyes trailing up and down Thomas's body. He tucked a finger beneath his collar, feeling much too hot to be wearing a suit in the sweltering summer heat. Tim sauntered over to Thomas and placed his hands upon his narrow hips. "I love you, Thomas. I hope we can be happy here." Tim leaned forward and stole a kiss from Thomas's lips before he could take another drag on his cigarette. Thomas trembled as his lover's tongue dipped into his mouth, causing him to moan.

Tim took the cigarette from Thomas's hand and stabbed it out against the windowsill before lifting Thomas off of his feet. Though Tim has recovered tremendously from what Larry had done to him, Thomas still worried about the mental scars that are sure to remain. He is careful where he touches Tim, so much that it often frustrates his lover. Tim snarled and pinned Thomas's arms above his head. "Don't move them," he ordered. Thomas curled his toes within his shoes and gasped as Tim lifted him off of his feet. Broad, masculine shoulders tempted Thomas to lower his arms as Tim slotted himself between his legs. Firm hands stroked his sides before moving to unbutton the front of his jacket.

The rigid length of Tim's cock brushed against the crook of Thomas's thigh. He mewled helplessly and bucked his hips to feel friction against his own erection. Tim brushed his hands over Thomas's chest, toying with his nipples through the fabric of his shirt and then worked open his belt. "Please, Tim," he begged as calloused fingers slid down the front of his trousers, wrapping around the shaft of his member. Thomas threw his head back and licked his lips. Tim left a trail of kisses along his pale throat before sinking his teeth into the crook of his neck. Thomas moaned wantonly.

Tim spun him around and pressed his chest to the wall. Thomas felt the muscle of Tim's chest against his back and began to grind his arse against him. A feral growl echoed in his ears. Warm breath caressed his neck and face as Tim shoved his pants to his knees before fumbling with his own belt. Thomas, ever the rebellious imp, grabbed Tim's fingers and sucked them into his mouth. But Tim wasn't in any hurry. He pulled his hand free from Thomas and dropped to his knees. Thomas panted against the wall when he felt moist air against his lower back and hips. Tim unlaced Thomas's shoes and helped him step out of his trousers. Only a thin pair of linen shorts concealed Thomas's delectable arse from Tim's hungry gaze. But he pressed his face between the fabric-covered globes of his lover's rear and inhaled the masculine musk of his body.

Thomas's leg's buckled as Tim licked at the fabric, wetting it before pressing against his needy hole with his fingers. Teeth nibbled on his thighs and a sharp smack against his left arse cheek caused him to let out a pitiful little squeak. Tim gripped the edge of Thomas's shorts and pulled them down, exposing the pale flesh to the empty room. Tomas kicked aside his shorts and spread his legs. Tim slid his arms between Thomas's splayed thighs and lifted him up so that his hips rested against his shoulders. Large hands stroked Thomas's back. He felt open...vulnerable...but the first swipe of Tim's tongue against his puckered flesh nearly made Thomas scream. He bit down on his knuckles and tried to prepare himself for the next assault against his senses.

Tim's tongue teased his hole open until it fluttered, blowing him an intimate kiss. The firm prodding into his body was too much. Wet, filthy sounds filled the air as Tim sucked and slurped at his sensitive nerves. "I could do this all day, Thomas. You taste wonderful. Do you like that?" he asked, sliding his tongue in as far as it would go before sucking at the rim of furled muscle. Thomas could only whimper as his cock dribbled against the wall. Tim defiled his tight little arsehole with his tongue until Thomas's knees gave out. He stood up and spit on the head of his cock before pressing it against the spit-slick hole that opened beautifully for him.

Thomas gasped at the hot stretch that forced his body to accept Tim. His arse clenched around the thick head until he felt Tim throb inside of him. Tim pushed forwards lowly. Thomas held on to the wall with a white-knuckled grip. It was as though he could feel Tim so deeply that it touched his soul. When Tim began to rock his hips, Thomas bit down on his plump bottom lip and closed his eyes. He couldn't help back push back against the the thick cock spearing into him, sliding along the glands that rippled with pleasure. "You're so tight and hot, Thomas. I've never felt anything like it." Hot, open-mouthed kisses peppered the back of his neck. "I'm close already...god, nothing is better than this."

"I love you inside of me."

Tim's cock twitched and Thomas braced his hands upon the wall, fucking himself back on his lover's engorged flesh. Sparks of white-hot pleasure licked up his spine. Tim thrust brutally against Thomas, meeting each motion of his hips perfectly until he came to a blissful release. Hot liquid painted Thomas's insides, hurling him over the edge. Tim wrapped his fingers around Thomas's weeping cock and stroked him through the agonizing pleasure of his climax. Thomas could hardly breathe as he struggled to stop the convulsing in his muscles. "Tim!"

"Shhh, just let it go, love." Tim released Thomas, knowing he was too sensitive for anything more and watched his softening member slip from the dripping center. "Push out, Thomas. I want to see it."

Thomas felt the wet slide of Tim's cum spilling from his hole. It marked him inside and out. He belonged to Tim and no one else.


End file.
